“How can you have memories that are not from your own past?” I relaxed; things were going in the right direction, my direction. Something resurfaced from the past: 'things were going in the right direction, her direction', and a thin smile almost escaped my lips.
“A gift we did not ask for. We keep it in order to help others whose memories have become lost in the folds of time. We are living books, and in the old books there are tales of another Deceneus.” ‘Is the legend ready to start again?’ Who said this? Aldira. Interesting. Don’t be too relaxed, things are not yet finished.
“Deceneus is only a nickname, pure chance. My real name is …” He brushed aside my answer with a gesture. “It might be only a coincidence, or it might not, because there is another coincidence: your mental signature matches the old Deceneus, part Baragan, part Nogi, part something else we have never encountered and have no memories of.”
“I cannot be in the old books and at the same time living today.” Is he a different kind of Gate? Houston mentioned a huge surprise ... she was right. She never gives the whole story; she omits things that are unnecessary for a certain stage, but never gives false facts.
“Time will tell. Let us just say that I have gathered enough information for now so that is no longer an urgent issue.” He paused again like a cat playing with a mouse, letting me wrack my brain to understand what he had perceived in my answers, but I could not. I had learned a lot about Erins too, I calmed myself.
“Politics, now.” He awoke me from my thoughts. “You are a conundrum of problems and opportunities, and thus something nobody wants to deal with.” Where do you see an opportunity? I protested silently. “Your embassy here is not about war between the Baragans and the Munti, yet you have killed their First Marshal. We both know the details. Technically, it was a fair challenge with no juridical outcome for you. Still, they now have one less Marshal and by good or bad luck, that one is, hmm, was, their main warrior. They are caught between a rock and a hard place, so the Queen’s decision was to play for time and keep you safe here until the waters were calmer. Borg's supporters had to be placated, not a very easy thing, but we hope for the best, even with a lot of outside interference.”
“And what opportunities have you discovered other than me gaining weight in this nice place?”
“Your opportunity’s name is war. But the time for this discussion is not yet ripe.” This is wrong; I came here to avoid that bloody war.
*
Days passed, one by one, at a snail’s pace and I grew tired of looking for rescue every time the damned door opened and nothing happened. It was late at night when first a scratch then a whisper came from the other side of the door.
“Deceneus, I have a message for you.” I jumped to my feet and moved closer to the door, trying to guess the owner of the voice, but to no avail. No other word came. For an hour or two, I heard footsteps in the corridor, faint whispers coming from outside, and opening and closing of the doors. What message, I wanted to cry, but only a moan escaped my mouth, not wanting to expose the messenger. I spent the rest of the night patrolling in the darkness, trailing from one window recess to another, from window to door, round the room, the same fear stopping me lighting the lights, still waiting for other news to come. With the dawn, I cursed my stupidity; a folded piece of paper had been slipped under the door. I quickly recognized Delena’s writing: ‘Things are getting worse. Tomorrow night your door will be open, take the small stairs on the left to the tunnel gate. Someone will be waiting for you.’
*
When the door opened again, three people entered. I vaguely recognized one of them as being with Borg in the forest. They were all armed. Three armed people against one unarmed. Cowards! I tensed my muscles, sensing the turmoil, the unwanted storm that now focused on this moment and place; my body went into the Samurai waiting position, one foot back, tense, a spring ready to bounce. Your body is your weapon.
“We are not savages who kill unarmed prisoners,” said the grim-faced one who seemed to be their leader. “A decision has to be made regarding you and we are here for a last talk. I am Rholes, the first captain of the Northern Army.” At that same moment, Duras made his appearance in the room.
“You broke the diplomatic laws. I am the envoy of the Baragan Kingdom.”
“Let's forget about that for a moment. You murdered our military commander.” He confirmed my thoughts; still his voice was not filled with malice, or I could not sense it.
“A duel is not murder. The guy on your left can confirm it. He was there at the time of the fight. It all happened with Borg’s agreement.” I avoided saying that he started everything, but their knowledge of this was obvious, as was their attachment to their former leader. At all costs, I had to avoid making them even more resentful.
“Duel or not we have to clarify some things.” Rholes’s mouth set into a grim line. He moved his head once, in a serious nod. Be careful, his nod told me, don’t overstep the line.
“What more do you want?” The third person, with a strange horse-like face, jumped into the discussion, his eyes flashed angrily like sharpened knives. “He was involved with those treacherous Erins from the beginning.” There is something wrong with your voice. I glanced around; Rholes was slightly displeased by the outburst but did not reply, the guy from the forest ignored the horse-face ... a good sign. Duras did not interfere. You don’t belong to the Northern Army, Borg's army, you are an observer. I hope I can count on you...
“Was my fight with Armin and the deep wound I inflicted on him also treacherous behavior?”
“I think not, but that was not a deep wound,” Rholes answered calmly. “The reason for our presence here is to determine whether you deliberately provoked Borg in order to weaken our chain of command before initiating more night attacks or a general invasion with the Erins.”
“Separately or with the Erins we are no match for your army. You already know that. I am here to stop a war being imposed on us by a foreign party, not to start one.”
“And, of course, we have to believe you. Erins are dangerous creatures; don’t try to make them look weak.” The horse-face interrupted again. You are obstinate. He is dangerous. I caught his eyes. No, he is unnatural. Borg wasn’t. Different hypnosis level. Garon, the Magister, they looked normal too. Rholes ignored him again. This is good. Is he aware of this strange behavior? Make them aware.
“You suddenly came from nowhere in Dava, and in a short period of time became one of their military rulers. Your arrival created resurgence in Baragan scientific knowledge and a frantic search for new weapons destined to annihilate our military superiority over you. You are the best warrior in both kingdoms at the moment and from everything we know, a very ambitious one.” His voice was stern, he watched me tightly, a concerned expression spread on his face.
“There is no frantic search for new weapons, only a search for knowledge to improve our living conditions and life expectancy. Both of us know that the Baragan civilization is dying. As you see, I am open about it.”
“Maybe, or maybe you are a good politician, trying to destroy us before your kingdom becomes too weak. Your speech in the Assembly about sending expeditions in search of applied military science might be a good example of this.” Who the hell told you this? “And you now have guns.” No, not about guns. Who is the traitor? Maybe there is no traitor, maybe the Travelers… They must know it was a failure too. Almost. They can’t know this; they have no real knowledge of guns. Ignore the guns.
“We sent that expedition away to stop the attacks on our villages. We lost control over parts of our own army because of the Travelers’ interference. That was the only way to avoid more bloodshed. If you know about my speech you must know this too.”
“This is an invention of the Erins. There is no such malign interference from Travelers. They are the only ones trying to help us,” the horse-face inevitably interrupted. Shut his mouth now. Use the Travelers.
“Did you encounter any Travelers recently?”
I abruptly asked him. “None of your business,” he snapped back, but this time he was obviously defensive, and I caught Rholes glancing at Duras. He shifted uneasily in his seat, looking away, and then finally fell silent.
After they left I propped one chair backward, wedged securely beneath the door’s metal knob. I did not feel much more secure but it helped a little. All my senses told me that the hypnotized soldiers could be ready for risky violent actions under their masters’ spells, as of course did Delena’s letter.
*
The key moved in the old door, its creak broke the deep silence of the night like thunder. I jumped from my bed, ready for anything, good or bad, but no other sound followed. I hope this is not just another dream. The letter ... was clear: run. I was hit by indecision. Should I go? And fear. What if? ... Stop it! Whatever is waiting outside there is no way of knowing without finding the courage to step out of this bloody cage. The three-quarter moon lit the room as I looked around for something to help my escape. The chair! Almost a weapon. Almost. I slowly raised it without a noise and went closer to the door. You made no sound when you opened before, please, I prayed for the same quietness. It’s open! Easy now ... no need to hurry. Close your eyes and listen. I pushed the chair forward, waiting for the slightest noise or movement. There is no one outside. Are you sure? Of course I am not. I gathered the courage to go through the door and then, still keeping the chair at head level, left the room. There was no light in the large corridor; in a corner, a mouse was gnawing some wood. It stopped when I moved. A mouse! A roaring mouse, I smiled. I left the chair on the right, blocking the passage, and swiftly went back to take the second one, using it like a shield until I got downstairs to the tunnel entrance. My blind hands groped for the door handle. Do it! I pushed the door in one shot. The tunnel was a hundred yards long and led from the inner yard of the building to the basement of the one across the road. Why such a long tunnel? To catch thieves... Shut up! The bittersweet smell of old wine answered me. Another stairscase and fresh air filled my lungs; I heard no sound other than my beating heart in all that darkness. Outside, a tall man appeared in the moonlight with a sword in his hand. I raised my chair as a shield. I heard the whispered “Deceneus” at the same moment I recognized Duras's face.
“Hurry, mutiny is ready to break out, and the Northern Army patrols are everywhere. There is something wrong with some of them.” I know, they are ‘unnatural’.
*
All the windows were closed and covered. The Queen, Delena, and two other council members were already there, as was Armin and another Erin; everybody armed to the teeth. I glanced at Delena: long sword, long legs, long hair. Beautiful. Dangerous. Not for me. It was the first meeting since Borg's death.
“Our precious guest,” the Queen grunted, with a burst of fury that swiftly faded to a blank expression, her eyes serious and weary, dark around the edges from lack of sleep. A long knife was playing in her left hand, hitting from time to time the wood of the table. “Your endeavors have surpassed any expectations." Her anger moved into a chilling cold. "You!" She touched my chest with the blade. "You could not have created such a disaster even if you had wanted to.” Uncontrollable, her knife kept beating my chest with the lateral of the blade, as if finding a new, softer table to hit. Drum, drum... I remembered. My eyes were closing each time the knife was touching my chest with no sound. Drum, drum... The drums were playing inside my mind.
“It is not yet a disaster and it is not meant to be,” interrupted Armin, and gently took the knife from her hand. She glanced at the knife, as if seeing it for the first time, and gestured a nervous 'I am sorry'. “It is not meant, it is not meant…,” Siena repeated in a low voice, not to mock him, more as though she was trying to convince herself about the prospect of a clear way out. “Can you guarantee the outcome from this unexpected chain of events, Armin?”
“You know that I can't, but you also know what I mean: the worst scenario is now an unfulfilled time alternative. That reality has no more future, and like it or not, Borg's death stopped it. The Borg who died is not the Borg you knew in the past. His mind was changed ... you know it.”
“Or so you say. But the other ones are not too bright either.” She drew a deep breath, avoiding Armin’s eyes.
“So I say, and some of them are good enough. There is a split in the timelines and we are almost there. You have to decide.”
“He wants you to be endorsed as our First Marshal.” Siena turned in haste towards me as I sat quietly, not daring to interfere in any way until the waters became clearer. “Won’t this be an interesting promotion?” She had just destroyed my strategy of saying nothing.
“It will not be an easy task to be Marshal in both kingdoms,” I answered cautiously.
“Don't worry; it is not a long-term appointment.” She swiftly turned her head toward Armin, looking straight at him this time. “Even he did not dare to ask for you to become our permanent Marshal. It is only a temporary war position.” Her tone was bitter and disapproving.
“That would also be interesting,” he softly answered, “a unified army leading to a unified kingdom.”
“Forget about that.” She dismissed his thoughts with a wave of her hand. But that set something off in my brain: one kingdom means no war and the genetic problem solved. Maybe it is worth testing the waters. Later, you have a head to save first. Your head.
“Is the war so close?” I stopped, waiting for her reaction. ‘Your chance’s name is war.’ I suddenly remembered Armin’s mysterious utterance.
“Closer than you can imagine. Nogi troops will be here in one week. And all the northern Erins have already retreated, leaving us alone to wait for them.” Not waiting for Armin's protest, she came back to me. “Are you able to put an army in place to confront them in a week’s time?”
“What I can do won’t matter. If we have one week then we have to be prepared in one week.” The words escaped my mouth. Houston would tell me that this is what I was prepared for, but there is a difference between something bad to come in a nebulous undetermined future and realizing that it is already in your path.
“Hmm, I like it that you are taking it seriously about being our Marshal.” With an obvious effort, she kept herself from looking too pleased by my answer.
“War is a serious thing, but don't think that my being your First Marshal will help. This will only create a new obstacle. Let Rholes be the Second Marshal while Duras takes over the position as First and create a new position of Marshal to lead the other two, just for the period of war.” Why doesn’t she see this? We need Rholes. Could it be only a trap? Or a test?
“And I have to trust you even after you killed my greatest warrior?”
I drew a deep breath and let it out slowly: “Whatever hidden motives I might have, if you want to anchor this in trust, for the moment, at least, we have a common goal. We are in the same boat, since if you are destroyed we are the next in line to be the victims of the Nogi.”
*
I hate unlit caves. However full of wonders they might be, they bring only misery and broken bones. I had to wait until my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, trying to avoid the drops of water, which fell precisely on my neck and ran on down my spine. After enough drops I reached the ‘conference room’ where Houston showed up at the same moment as me. Good timing shortens the energy signature of the quantum connection.
“I hope you have a real problem. Faction Two has just raised the surveillance level.”
“Skip it. Who are the Erins? What are they? Where do they come from?” Only after the outburst did I realize I was mimicking Armin’s questions thrown at me in the lake. It was too late to rephrase them, and in the end, they reflected my feelings at that moment. I remained silent, waiting for her answer.
“Highly intelligent people with a native capacity for prediction and anticipation. You already know this.”
“Future sight?”
“They are able to anticipate events by mental calculus. Professiona
l chess players can calculate up to twenty steps in advance and reproduce an entire game in the mind. The Erins can calculate, in a game with ten times the number of chess pieces, up to one thousand steps in advance, ten times more than a Traveler.” More than a Traveler, I repeated her words inside. What the hell are they? “I am talking about the actual Erins. The first created ones were somewhere between you and Travelers.” More than a Traveler, I still could not believe. She stopped, letting me guess how many human minds we would need to match an Erin. I gave up; even for this I had not enough brain. Stone Age people... A self-imposed Stone Age; they chose to be like this. Do superior minds prefer life without technology? Then how about Factions? They still use technology. “But … that power became their problem. In evolution, the brain grows slowly, giving the hosts the chance to adapt; new things are gradually adopted – the cultural dimension. The Erins were an infant race, waking up with sophisticated brains. Based on their primitive experience they imagined a model with all the roads going nowhere, or nowhere in a good way, and decided to stop their evolution. Like the Boskops, they were scared by their own capabilities.” ‘Immortality and knowledge bring great responsibility.’ Batranu’s words resurfaced. Then why are these bloody Factions acting like this?
“Are the Boskops a natural race?” It was always interesting how in her teachings completely alien things intertwined with our own evolution on Earth; the galaxy is such a small neighborhood.
“They were part of the same experiment, only the conditions on Earth were better than here, so their development was kept at a lower level. That created two different strands of evolution. The Boskops let themselves disappear after the situation stabilized on Earth while the Erins decided to remain alive, around five hundred people, freezing their technological evolution. Unfortunately, the Erins were kept in the dark about Faction Two’s interference here, and this was the biggest mistake.” She stopped for a while to let my mind catch up with all that flood of news. So many big brains and ... they need me.
Io Deceneus: Journal of a Time Traveler (The Living Universe) Page 33