“Ah…he’s a good man,” Arnot commented while continuing to gaze directly into Elin’s eyes. Freckles or no, she was a fine looking young woman Arnot decided, though he’d received the attentions of many who were far more beautiful. Elin’s dirty blonde hair was tied back in the fashion of the students of Noble. Up close, Arnot could see that the girl’s skin was smooth and fair and very freckled from her many years in the sun…and of course her body was slim and toned from her constant exercise. “I met him on several occasions. Raman is a very good friend of my father’s. Joined the Massi against Mastoc in the Just War,” Arnot added and allowed his leg to stray against Elin’s ever so gently. “I hear he’s to go Solitary soon.”
“R…Raman?”
“Tar Raman Myson,” Arnot answered with a chuckle.
Elin sat silent for a moment, unnerved by the use of her Master’s given name. Up to now she’d never known it, even though she’d trained with the man for the last eight years. She turned away from Arnot and made a shallow attempt to watch the final point of the match. Her actions fooled neither Arnot nor Avigail, who almost pitied the girl. Arnot was ruthless in any contest, and with a smile Avi was suddenly very glad she never had to face him in the game of love.
Ethan of Massi flashed under a slow attack from Nell and scored. The crowd roared its approval. The match was over with the Massi youth winning ten scores to two. Both contestants bowed to the judges and then to the Tarina who’d refereed the match. Elin quickly stood and made to move back to her friends, but Arnot reached out and gently gripped her bare arm. The girl turned back quickly, eyes wide and just a bit threatening. Arnot smiled calmly at her and then stood very slowly.
“I look forward to facing you in the arena,” Arnot said in his silkiest voice. Avi shook her head with wry amusement and wondered what it would be like if she could manipulate the opposite sex as easily as her brother. She wondered if she’d be a tramp or a prude and a tease…a tease she finally decided.
“If you advance that far,” Elin answered trying to sound condescending.
Arnot just smiled, more anxious than ever for the Competitions to truly start. “You know Elin, I find that I like freckles…I like them very much,” he added and actually moved his face closer to hers.
Elin froze for a moment, thinking he might kiss her and then her light skin erupted in a furious blush. She jerked her arm from his grip, frowned a moment as if trying to decide whether or not Arnot was playing with her, then quickly retreated back to her friends.
Arnot smiled and turned back to Avigail, who was also frowning.
“Defeat her in the arena if you must…but it would be cruel Arnot to break her heart.”
Arnot turned and glanced back at Elin, who was watching him out of the corner of her eye. She quickly looked away.
“I have no intention of breaking anything of hers,” Arnot answered without fully realizing that he meant every word.
†
Three days later Noble Island was abuzz with shock, surprise and excitement. For the first time since the Competitions opened to the general populace someone other than a student of the island was crowned Champion, and it was not Arnot…it was Avigail. Her heightened awareness allowed her to win the archery competition, though she’d been pushed to her limits by Kylie, a seventh year from Rhondono, a student of Mneme quarter. The two girls shot through three tense extra rounds before Avigail was finally victorious.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Avigail admitted to Vio who stood smiling by her side. “Without your training I wouldn’t have stood a chance against that girl.”
Vio nodded. “She was very impressive. A natural shot,” she replied as Arnot finally worked his way through the crowd and over to them.
“And you…ninth place,” Vio added happily. “You performed exceptionally well.”
Arnot took the compliment in stride. He was extremely happy with his finish. Unlike Avigail, he’d never been a very good shot and only entered the archery competition because it was required in order to win the overall championship. Vio and N’dori insisted he try for the overall championship. He indulged them, even though he only truly cared about the kata championship. In Arnot’s mind, which was an opinion shared by many, the kata champion was the true champion of the games, and was generally held in higher esteem than the overall champion if they happened to be two different contestants. The kata matches were by far the most popular among the spectators and drew enormous crowds.
Aside from the year end run, the finals in the katas were the last contest of the Competitions, and before the kata brackets even began, Arnot would have to compete in the staff, the long sword and hand to hand. Avigail was entered in only the staff, the katas and the run. She was not trying to win the overall competition. She knew it would be pointless; she would have no chance against Arnot, who was entered in every individual competition. Her brother thought he had a good chance to win the staff and the long sword, for he was a natural with weapons, but the hand to hand bouts would be tougher for him since he didn’t have the great strength needed to excel in such matches. Still, he would need to place well in everything to be in the running to win the overall title. If he could manage such a feat it would be a true blow to the exclusivity of Noble Island.
Avigail endured the congratulations well enough; though Arnot knew she was very uncomfortable at the vast amount of attention she was receiving. He was happy for her, especially when their father greeted her after the match. The pride, etched clearly on his face, was something they both sought their entire lives. Arnot supposed they always would. Mother was another matter; her approval and love was much easier to attain, they just had to keep themselves alive…and visit as often as possible.
When the twins were finally able to break away from all of the new fans Avigail had so recently won, they moved immediately back to the sanctuary of the guarded and secluded student camp. Once inside the tent Vio turned all her attention on Arnot.
“You may not manipulate time,” she immediately said. Arnot was due to have his first match with the staff later in the afternoon. He’d drawn a fourth year out of the Clio quarter…a short, stocky boy named Haldis. Arnot didn’t expect to have any trouble with him, but he would not underestimate anyone who trained on Noble.
“N’dori already forced us to swear,” Arnot answered stung by the fact that his word was apparently not good enough for this infamous and beautiful Solitary.
Vio nodded. “As she should. The Solitaries have precious few secrets anymore…time is one of them and it shouldn’t be two young students who reveal it to the world. Your father, the High King, felt strongly enough about it to keep our secret and you need to follow his example.”
“I’ll not alter time,” Arnot conceded, but he was confident he would have little need. He trusted his innate skills, and even though he’d chided Avigail for such an attitude, manipulating time in the Competitions would feel a bit like cheating, especially if the option was not available to the other competitors.
Vio smiled at him, and Arnot’s heart hiccupped. “Ninth place! Only two spots below Elin of Mneme quarter.” She added excitedly. “It was a far better finish than I was expecting. Elin will be your main competitor for overall champion. She’s very good with the staff and adequate with the long sword and exceptional with katas. She’ll be a Tarina one day. Do not underestimate her.”
“I won’t,” Arnot replied, but really gave the thought only the briefest consideration.
“Her weakness is hand to hand and the long sword. You will need to place significantly higher in those two disciplines to beat her in the overall,” Vio added.
Arnot nodded and glanced at Avigail, who was already stretched out on her bunk, her arms folded across her chest and her eyes closed. He smiled and sat down.
“Meditate for an hour,” Vio said moving toward the gap in the tent wall. “I’ll return for your warm ups.”
Arnot dropped down onto his back and began to consciously regulate his
breathing and pulse. Almost immediately relaxation flowed over him and he closed his eyes.
†
Vio was nervous, far more nervous watching the twins than she’d ever been during her own competitions. However she was also confident that the pair would perform very well, and with Avigail winning the archery competition she’d already achieved more than most thought possible. But what Vio truly wanted was for Arnot, an outsider, to win the overall championship. She wanted it because Gwaynn wanted it. Vio understood that. She’d immediately realized what he was trying to do when he opened the Competitions to the families all those years ago. He wanted to break the monopoly of the Temple Islands, not only of Noble, but also of Light, which was why he allowed Travelers to now marry whomever they chose and to reside away from the island. In the past, the Kings of old were too suspicious and paranoid to allow the abilities of the Islands to be farmed out to the families, and those with special skills were kept away from any who might one day challenge the High King. But Gwaynn was in a unique position of power, for he already possessed many of Noble’s talents. Besides the obvious coveted abilities of Noble and Light, Gwaynn also strived for the spread of knowledge and teaching which had once been the sole domain of Lato. He’d opened a large library on the King’s Island and used the vast wealth afforded him as High King to aid the families in their own quest for self education. Gwaynn, it turned out, was indeed a lover of wisdom and not just for the elite or chosen few.
Such thoughts were buzzing through Vio’s head as she pulled back the tent flap and entered.
“Galen!” Both twins yelled in unison, Arnot sat up rapidly and glanced all around for any sign of danger. Avigail remained prone, lying on her back, her eyes open and staring at the ceiling, her chest heaving with obvious fear.
Vio pulled to a stop, confused and more than a little worried. N’dori warned her of the twins’ propensity for vivid dreams after their walk into the Far lands. That the infamous Galen Dawkins was their guide through the dream world seemed incredible, beyond all reckoning. But as Vio studied the startled and confused teens a chill ran up her spine and she began to believe.
“Are you two all right?” She asked softly and stepped farther into the tent, neither appeared to have heard the question. Avigail slowly sat up and then turned her head and stared at her brother.
“We can’t ignore him Arnot,” she said softly, completely disregarding her teacher’s presence.
“I know…after the Competitions,” Arnot pleaded, but Avigail said nothing.
Arnot stood, stretched his back and rubbed his face in an effort to clear his head.
“I need to go outside, get some fresh air,” he said mostly to himself but Vio found she agreed wholeheartedly.
“Yes…let’s get started,” she added, still shaken and confused by what had transpired.
XIV
“The wrath of God is in my guns, silencing the lies of the wicked.”
Nico Torres
May 6th 2015 Old Earth
Nico sat in the passenger seat of the old, rusty Crown Victoria. The car was owned by Jamie Owens, the investigator assigned to his case by the Pitts Detective Agency. Jamie, a large black man with an enormous head, was currently working his way through his second Junior Whopper, and was doing so with surprising grace.
“They showed up yesterday afternoon,” Jamie reported after taking a large gulp of diet Coke. He pointed at the light gray Chrysler minivan parked across the street from Ratner’s apartment building. The van screamed FBI. Only a large government agency would even consider using a minivan for surveillance. Nico shook his head in amazement and was quite sure he was more comfortable and less conspicuous in the rusty Crown Vic. Hopefully this Dawkins fellow would not realize his hideaway was compromised, but even so, this time Nico would take no chances. If he had a clean shot at the boy, he would take it.
“Any movement?” Nico asked as Owens took out his third and final sandwich. The man shook his prodigious head negatively.
“Ratner and the other woman left just before eight this morning, but since then nothing,” he explained. “It’s weird because the Dawkins fellow normally brings the boy out to the park just after lunch…at least when it’s not raining.”
“The FBI made any move?”
Again Owens shook his head. “No…just watching, like us.”
Owens reached over and took a large envelope off the dashboard and handed it to Nico, who opened it.
Inside were several dozen pictures. He recognized Christine Dawkins and her brother Adam and took a good long look at the Ratner woman, but the boy was a wonder. He’d grown.
Nico reached into the front pocket of his blazer and drew out a picture Heyworth had given him only a month before. He compared the two. ‘Hell the boy was taller…and even his facial structure was beginning to change…beginning to mature. If not for Heyworth’s warning about the accelerated aging he would have thought the two were playing the ol’ switch-a-roo on him. The boy did not appear to be the same person.’
Nico was shocked. If the boy had somehow managed to elude him for another month or so he probably would not have recognized the target. He wondered what the FBI was making of the change.
Nico glanced at the van, then craned his neck and gazed up at the apartment building. “There must be twenty floors,’ he thought.
“What’s Ratner’s floor?”
“Nineteenth…1910,” Pitts answered then popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth. He felt better…much better.
“Alright,” Nico finally said. “You can take off. I’ll handle it from here.”
Jamie smiled; very glad the job was completed. Something about the whole thing made him feel very uneasy. Oh the man and the two women seemed ordinary enough, but there was something about that boy. Twice now, while the Dawkins fellow was crossing the street with the boy, holding his hand as they made their way across busy Skinker Avenue, the boy seemed to stare straight through the windshield at him. The first time Owens felt an unexplained happiness, hell he was almost giddy, but the second time he was awash with remorse and guilt. Yes…he would be very glad to put this job behind him.
Nico climbed out of the car, very careful to avoid the bike path that wove around the perimeter of the park. The cyclists often went by in a blur of speed, unmindful of joggers or strollers alike. He had serious doubts that any would break for him if he carelessly wandered into their path. Without waving goodbye, Owens immediately pulled out into traffic, the Vic creaking and groaning on old shocks, but it was still running. Nico ignored Owens as he left.
Once the old car was gone, he looked up again at the tall building directly across the street, then without glancing at the van, moved south a few cars and climbed behind the wheel of his Volvo. He’d barely closed the door when Adam Dawkins walked out of the apartment building, the target at his side. Immediately behind them, a small group of people also exited the building. For several moments they all chatted with each other and the boy before finally Dawkins led the target to a Honda and climbed inside. The boy rolled down his window and waved to the group of people milling about and they all smiled and waved back to him. Everyone seemed very happy. Dawkins circled the car around the drive, his face blank and impassive and within moments pulled out and passed Nico, heading south on Skinker. The van immediately started up and followed.
Nico frowned and was tempted to turn the car around and give chase, but after a moment decided that he’d just sit and wait. He did not think the chumps in the minivan would be charged with apprehending the pair or they would have made their move in front of the building. No, the boy would return. Nico would wait. He looked in his driver’s side mirror and waited for a rush of traffic to pass and then he popped the trunk. He opened the driver’s side door and quickly moved to the rear of the vehicle. He retrieved a long duffel bag and placed it gently, almost lovingly, in the passenger seat. He wanted his baby, his M21 close, just in case an unexpected opportunity arose. It paid to play it safe.<
br />
Nico settled down in his seat to wait, knowing he’d have to stay awake. Luckily the park trails were frequented by a bevy of fit female joggers, many of them college age. He waited and gawked as they ran past the Volvo, thankful for the distraction.
†
Adam’s heart was still beating rather rapidly as he drove west along Clayton Avenue heading toward the nearest grocery store. Galen was sitting in the front seat next to him apparently oblivious to his companion’s nervous condition. The boy was getting taller; there was no denying that now. His eyes were already on the level with Christine’s and the top of his head was now up to Adam’s chin. He was aging and growing very rapidly and the rate of acceleration seemed to be increasing daily, a fact that was wearing heavily on his sister. They’d only been in St. Louis a little over a month and the boy had already aged over a year. They had to move soon. They had to get out of the apartment building before people noticed. Hell, it was obvious. Surely those who had daily contact with the boy were aware of the change.
Galen was no longer a boy, he was a teenager, and was quickly becoming a young man. But even with all the changes his body was going through his demeanor had not changed much. He was still just as polite and nice as ever. His attitude was a little unnerving and eerie. Teenagers by definition were supposed to be surly.
Adam turned left into a large, crowded parking lot, carefully watching all the activity around him. He noticed a silver minivan pull in a few cars behind him and he was sure it was the same minivan that had pulled off the curb near home. It was probably not something he would have noticed at any other time in his life, but the attention they were getting inside the building was making him decidedly anxious. He almost expected the happy group of people who greeted them every day to suddenly turn into a lynch mob and do away with them all…trial or no. The fact that he’d smuggled the first engineered human being away from government authorities probably didn’t help his jitters either.
The Best of All Possible Worlds Page 17