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

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Io Deceneus: Journal of a Time Traveler (The Living Universe) Page 24

by Florian Armas


  “I am afraid so, yes.”

  “Story time then. This is the most unbelievable kidnapping I ever saw.”

  “How many times have you been kidnapped?”

  “Once. Do you remember the old ruined fort we passed on the road to Dava?” I nodded. “They kept me there, well fed, like cattle on a farm.” I glanced at him. “Yes, the old ox has gained a few kilos in that barn. Three days ago, they simply let me run. They mimed a fight, my guards joined in, and the door was open. They bothered to shout after me. I know what you want to know. Why was I kidnapped, why am I still alive, why am I back.” He shrugged. “The truth is that I don’t know.” I filled his glass again. “Yeah, my mouth was getting dry. What I have is this.” He threw a paper on the table, The Star.

  “Five months old,” I said after reading the first page. “That means three weeks afterwards. Scorylo?”

  “Look on the last page.” I turned the paper over, to find some handwritten words. “For Tranuba,” I started to read, “from n!, all is well.” Tranuba, Tranu-ba … Batranu. What the hell... n! … factorial, my math dissertation. “For Batranu from ‘me’, all is well. Who the hell wrote this?”

  “We need to talk with our friend Scorylo … tomorrow,” he yawned.

  *

  Halfway along the road from home to the palace, the Military School was an imposing but functional building. Fifteen minutes of walking and another twenty for breakfast; not very different from my daily Earth routine. The restaurant was on the road, and on clear mornings, it gave a view of the Alutus valley running down from the cage of the mountains. The snow had gone, as it was mid-May again, with the promise of a magnificent spring day.

  Cotiso gave me the duty roster, in silence. I hate this. A bald head was staring at me, from that paper, each Monday. I am not that bastard. I am the chief... Maug was already there, as usual, and all the lieutenants except Scharon.

  “Where is Scharon?” The King decided to let him stay another year in the school, while also an active officer. Who do you want to teach a lesson, Mr. King? Me or Scharon? Or both?

  Maug shrugged. “Some rumors of his company going to patrol the western area, but no paper.” Come back when I will ask for you, Scharon. Do your duty. You bragged about being the chief.

  “It makes no sense to discuss it with him. I will ask Garon if he really wants his son to continue the training here.” Maug shrugged again, and I left for the council.

  “One young lieutenant is losing out on his sleep, with young women, and is not able to wake up in the morning. Maybe he should spare more energy for training,” I told Garon, with a smile, trying to smooth things, when alone in the room. His face changed, turning red. I am not sure he enjoyed your joke...

  “Scharon is engaged,” Garon grunted. Stupid! Why is everything turning around this? Why asking now? “Try to keep this in mind.” Anger flashed across his face, his eyes bore into mine. Say something...

  “A bad joke. I apologize,” I hastily added. “Just trying to make things easier. What I want...”

  “What you can expect from a southern savage,” Sarul cut me short while entering back into the room. “What a pity to have such a teacher for our soldiers.” He glanced at Garon. “We have to go. The council took longer than expected.”

  “Those savages never interfere in private discussions. That kind of knowledge cannot be bought, it comes from education.”

  “Do you have schools there?” He feigned surprise, with a theatrical move. “How are the teachers paid? With fish? Slippery, isn’t it?” His hand went to the nose, as if trying to avoid a stench. When the last tree has died and the last river been poisoned and the last fish been caught will we realize we cannot eat money, a thought whispered to me, an old Cree Indian proverb. Make him feel this.

  “Fish stinks, yet is cleaner than a bill. The same goes for the fisherman. You know what is missing in my last sentence. Don’t you?” His eyes flashed me, and his hand almost touched his sword. Almost. You went too far. No! I have to make him think twice before jumping on me next time. “Always be sure that you haven't lost the things that money can't buy. My teacher told me this. He was a fine man. Not sure that you will understand.”

  “What do you want?” Annoyed, Garon stopped the quarrel, without looking at Sarul, and for a moment, I had the impression that he was more annoyed by Sarul’s bad words. You two are too different. Would you work together without the Travelers? I bet not. Garon is a real man. Was.

  “Scharon missed again his duties in the school. No one knows where he is, not even his captain.”

  “He was sent on an important mission in the west zone, with his company. We are going in the same direction...” The corner of my eye caught Sarul pressing his finger on his lips, and Garon’s voice stopped in a hiccup. “The young lieutenant disrespected the rules, I will make this point clear to him,” he dismissed me. Why that reaction? What’s in the west? Some empty hills, no cities, nothing. Munti? Coordination means events, with these people, big events. Back at school, I sent a cadet after Batranu, and asked for our horses to be prepared.

  “It's a nice time for a trip out in the country,” I said to him.

  “That's all?” he retorted. “Monday I am teaching chemistry.” You enjoy this, I almost smiled.

  “Exciting, but that can wait. Garon, Sarul, Scharon, and one full company are gone for a picnic in the west.”

  “The Magister fell in love with the countryside too. West area...” Should I inform the King? If he is aware, I would look like a fool. Maybe I am exaggerating. No … too sudden … too many important people. “That place is almost inhabited. You are right, teaching can wait,” he confirmed my thoughts.

  “And you are his new confidant,” I stopped my inner rumbling.

  “Not yet, but being friends with the gatekeeper is the first step.” He winked at me, and we went out at a gallop, only to bump into Altamira's horse.

  “Hello strangers, eager for an escape to the country?” She smiled at us. “I challenge you. Let’s see who is the better rider.”

  “Oh no, not her,” I whispered to myself.

  “Something wrong? No race...” She raised her hands in a surrender gesture.

  “Ready for a ride into the western territories?” I quickly changed the subject.

  “I just wanted to escape the city; companions like you are always a pleasure. Why west? The lake shore is a wonder under this sun.” Okay, you are off the bad guys list.

  “Pleasure and duties ... we are responsible people. And the green hills of the west have their own charm.” Duties, I hope you understand we need speed. And if you find nothing there? I will praise the sunset for her, and find some flowers. Batranu nodded to me in silence.

  There was no doubt about Garon being a fast rider; he came from a people of mighty horsemen, but the speed of that small money launderer was a surprise. He was as good as Garon and it stretched us a lot to keep up the pace while observing them from a safe distance. At the foot of the hills, we left the road, hiding our path in the dense shadow of the oak forest. Altamira came to understand that this was no longer a pleasure trip but kept quiet – the mature political part of her. I was spying on her lovely face trying to read something, only to get lost.

  The trees drew close on both sides, and we dismounted and stealthily went to the forest’s boundary. There were no whisperings or movements around us, only an uncomfortable feeling of being watched. Is this a trap? Garon fed me with this whole story. Did he want me here? The one sure way to reveal a trap is to fall into it. A tall black silhouette wearing a large black hat cut into my thoughts.

  “It's a Traveler!” Altamira said. “But why this secrecy? They should have signaled their presence to the King.” Her voice betrayed surprise, and I felt good. I used my binoculars to observe him, the usual gray face. ‘The standard Traveler.’ I remembered Houston’s description of them. What Faction do you represent?

  “Are you sure that the King is not aware?” I took her glance as a
yes, and moved my eyes away. What the hell is that? The locals arranged themselves in rows, two feet distance between them, dancing a … ‘duck dance’. Now, there was nothing like a ‘duck dance’ in their culture but I had no better name for those movements: stepping on the spot, moving from foot to foot like fat ducks, turning left or right at a slow speed and saluting the gray face with military greetings reserved for the King.

  “There is no music,” Batranu whispered. There was no music, no sound, only silence and fog-like tension slowly climbing the hill.

  “What is...?” The shadow of a foreign thought passed through my mind and cut my words. My legs jerked. “Obey,” the whisper filled my mind. “What...” I tried in vain. Foreign words crept again inside me: “enjoy the union of minds ... listen ... obey your masters…” Who are you? “...you will be rewarded…” Get out of my mind! “Raise your hand,” the foreign inner voice continued. I raised my hand. Batranu raised his hand. Altamira raised her hand. “Salute your master.” We saluted, the people in the valley saluted. “Jump!” Altamira jumped and went half out of the cover of the bushes. “No!” I cried. Her jump did what I could not, severed me from the foreign mind, Batranu regained himself too. We grabbed her and ran, covered by the forest. The ‘what’ would have to wait for another occasion. She resisted being taking away from the mental projection of the Traveler, but we were stronger and her spasms began to lose force, with the distance, until they stopped completely – she was unconscious. We mounted the horses and did not stop until we had put a safe mile between the valley and us. That moment, I did not really feel her body leaning tight in my arms while riding; the memory of the strange intimacy came back to me later, after things had passed, leaving a bittersweet taste lingering for a long time. I lay her on the grass close to a small spring and slapped her face while splashing cold water on her.

  “The Munti”, she gasped with a deep masculine voice, as if she was trying to imitate somebody else, “they are a menace, we must defend ourselves, we must attack them.” Her words became incoherent, until they stopped.

  “Altamira,” I whispered, and she awoke but remained silent, as though trying to understand what had happened.

  “What do you remember?” I was keeping my hand on her shoulders to help her stand.

  “I remember.” Surprise seeped into her, then fear.

  “Look into my eyes. What do you remember?” I tried to control her fear.

  “Him.” She tried to say more but her mouth shut.

  “What about him?”

  “I was with you, then he talked to me. Munti!” she cried, “they want to kill us all.”

  “Stop it; those are not your thoughts. It is his mind influencing you. Fight, Altamira! Fight his will!” She opened her mouth like a fury, then just sighed.

  “He is still here; I don't hear him anymore but he is still here.” A weak, desperate voice.

  “Push him out, you can do it. Fight, you are a fighter, don't give up.” Her breathing became louder, her mouth opened and closed spasmodically but no more words came out. She looked again as though she might faint but her eyes showed otherwise. She was fighting, her mind was troubled and there was anger in her eyes. Her body was stiff, almost paralyzed, but she did not stop fighting and we could not help. Their brains are much more sensitive to cerebral waves than ours, which is why they can distinguish between different people’s mental patterns. This can be an advantage if attacked at night, but with no wars here, I wondered if it was another ploy of the Black Travelers to keep them under control. Long minutes passed silently, full of dread and fury, then her body regained movement. She gasped and with a strangled cry fell back and lay still on the grass, pale and cold, her unseeing eyes staring at the blue sky. We folded some clothes and made a pillow for her head. Silence surrounded us, the pressure of silence, heavy, uneasy, rasping through nerves; everything was beyond our help.

  “She is sleeping,” said Batranu. “This is a good sign. She will recover.” Are you sure old man? You saw many things, true, but how much truth is in your words and how much hope?

  With an uncontrolled gesture, I lightly touched her hair. “Don’t let me down, Altamira.”

  Half an hour passed before we whispered again for fear of disturbing her healing sleep. “Something is wrong,” I told to Batranu. Many things are wrong. She escaped. Are you sure? Remember the SAT-mine, it almost killed your brain many weeks after. The guys in the valley...

  “Of course something is wrong. Nobody should be allowed to use such technology to enslave people.”

  “This is wrong too. Why did they use the technology now, and why on so many people? They broke the laws; something happened and pushed them to react. Not that they really care about laws, but they care about being caught. They came here with forbidden technology ... a Gate permitted the transport.”

  “Are they able to trick a Gate?”

  “This will change many things; anyway it's the same bloody neural amplification technique.” I was not sure of him being aware of our black past. Of course he was, but at that moment my mind had not yet fully recovered.

  “A what?” Altamira asked nervously, rising upright and looking confused around her.

  “Welcome back, Altamira. Are you feeling alright?” In the last moment, I stopped myself taking her in my arms.

  “He is gone. What is the neural technique?”

  “Hypnosis, advanced and efficient,” I reluctantly said, afraid of the next questions. Difficult to keep things from faraway worlds separate in your mind. “Remember the ‘spell’ they inserted inside my mind.”

  “This is not right. We are not their puppets.” She stopped, as if recalling something further back in time, trying to anchor the Traveler’s behavior in certain verified patterns.

  “They do not always have our interests at heart. Sometimes there is a divergence between their path and ours and you now have a glimpse of what they can do when this happens,” I carefully pushed forward with the new bit of knowledge. ‘Knowledge: knowledge can be dangerous, dangerous for you or for others interacting with you.’ I suddenly remembered. ‘Always treat it with respect.’ Houston? No, it was Batranu. Thank you old man, you are right.

  “I never mistrusted them. They always helped us, and now all this.” She still protested, but her voice was weak, ending in whispers. You have no idea yet how bad they are. You have to learn, the sooner the better. I will help you.

  “I am sorry to say, but Airan will be a different person when he comes back, the same for others. I am glad that you and your parents are safe, at least for now. Are you okay?” I pushed further, finally convinced about her mind’s ability to handle new shocks.

  “Yes.” She opened her mouth to say more, and I patiently waited. That more did not come, she was still fighting inside.

  “Did you see any Munti in your dreams?”

  “Yes, Munti are evil.” She turned upside down all my thoughts and strategy. I exchanged a brief glance with Batranu. He frowned slightly: patience, things are not as bad as they look.

  “Are you sure?” Her eyes closed again and her lips trembled but then the answer came calmly.

  “No, I am not,” she said, jumping on her feet. “We have to help them.”

  “The evil has been done and he has the belt. We cannot do anything against their power, and we will be dead if he senses our presence here. We have to leave.” She closed her eyes and shivered, but she mounted her horse in silence. After a long gallop, we let the horses rest.

  “Had you any information about this Traveler coming?”

  “No. Usually they make their presence known to the King and visit him first, giving advice.”

  “Take what you can from this. You are now aware and able to help the King understand. They couldn't do this in the city. Hypnotizing so many people needs discretion, even with their advanced skills. They broke their will and now they will use them as pawns. “Did Airan inform you or the King?” I pushed further, one step at a time.

  “I
had no knowledge about his departure, but I will ask the King.”

  “No one knew apart from the poor people in the valley, I suppose. Let it be as it is, a secret for everyone except the King and the Queen. The people in the valley don’t have the will to reveal it.” Would they be able to remember? Something to consider. “You should tell the King to act in public as though this never happened ... and be prepared for more.” I looked deep into her eyes; they were clear again.

  “You were too rude,” Batranu whispered to me later.

  “Better be rude than dead.” Who can guarantee your life? He had the belt. We have nothing.

  The table had many empty bottles of wine, but the future still looked bleak, filled with fear and with no anchor to keep it at bay in bad times. We spent hours in the almost darkness among the barrels and bottles, with the smell of countless vintages – the royal palace was well supplied and open to our needs – which left our heads a little hazy.

  “Why are you so keen to remember Earth?” he asked, and I glanced at him, not sure if his question was for me, only for himself, or both.

  “Now that we are stuck here, I have started to miss some things: movies for example. I want to see a nice movie, like My Fair Lady or something matching our situation a little, like Lord of the Rings. Are you not missing anything?” I could not tell him that it was not only about movies. I missed them too, but the joy of having an immortal life that Houston had promised me was suddenly gone. I could die any moment, with no back up from her technology. Once you have a glimpse of immortality, it is painful to acknowledge its loss, and that pain relentlessly rots you inside.

  “My house, the house where I was born ... a small one, made from wood a long time ago. I would like to see it one last time.” There was a break in his voice, a nostalgia coming from far away in both time and space. Living 168 years in the same house leave deep marks inside anyone.

  “He came with a belt; we are doomed. They can get us anytime, read our minds, and put something else in place.” I finally revealed my inner fear, and the comfort of the bottles vanished in that second, leaving nothing behind my eyes but emptiness and ache. For a moment, deep longing and regret overwhelmed my mind.

 

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