Part of him: full of anger, wanted to knock the cup from the stranger’s hand: instead Nicholas took it and put it to his lips. The liquid though cold felt warm and sweet as it slid down his throat. He consumed the liquid in silence for some time, until he suddenly spoke. “The wounds I had: my clothes: this is the work of Gods and spirits, or that of the devil?”
“Believe as you wish?” The man replied. “But I assure you, I am none of those; though I have known some who would argue the latter.” his face broke into a grin that Nicholas found hard not to respond with. “The truth is only that I possess knowledge that your people have yet to learn.” He held up his hand to stop any reply. “I will answer some of your questions; for others, you yourself must seek the answer. Firstly I know who you are. Where you are from, and what you have done; or rather what you have not done. You must accept for the time being that I help you because I too have a part to play in your life. I can tell you no more than that, other than you can call me Reigel. As for where I am from?” He opened his hands in a questioning gesture. “That is hard to explain... suffice it to say that my ancestors were from a village in ways similar to yours, though a very long way away from where we are.”
“But you will tell me why am I here?”
“Here; at Henderson’s draw?”
“No; like this: alive. In all truth I should be dead?”
“You question such a gift?”
“There are things that are more good fortune for any man to ask for; resurrection is one that can be a gift or a curse?”
“It is, but to be resurrected one must be dead first, and that I cannot undo.”
Nicholas could not just accept such a statement. “Forgive my protest, but if I am to believe all that you say; then I truly owe you a great debt. But you ask me to accept that you come from far away to this place, to pay me; a stranger to you such credit?”
“You doubt that someone can aid another out of humanity?”
“This is hardly giving a nights shelter, or filling an empty belly. I have had an experience that I do not wish to endure again. I have passed my last breath between my lips.”
“Cessation of breathing is not death.”
“The question still begs, why this wondrous service of reincarnation; or not: and for what reason?”
“As I already said: is not being able to a good enough reason?”
“No. I am an ordinary man of simple ways, yet I have a service the Lord Marshal does not have; at least I do not think he has.”
Nicholas saw reaction flash in Reigel’s eyes as he spoke, but there was none in his answer. “Through history men have sought to gain the benefit of knowing their purpose in life. I do not know what yours is, but a purpose you do have.”
For a moment anger again surged through Nicholas. “True, I have a purpose like never before.”
Reigel ignored the bitterness of his words. “If you think your reincarnation is solely to enable your revenge you are wrong.”
“What better use has it?”
“I was once told by someone far wiser than I, that if you take revenge hot it will burn your fingers. Take revenge cold and each piece can be relished. If hate blinds you then strike back; go find whoever killed your family, and kill them: it is simple enough?”
Nicholas was ready to answer but he couldn’t, where should he start, what should he do, where should he go? “It is not so simple; all I know is that they were soldiers of Quone.”
“If it is what you want, I can give you their names, and even where to find them.”
Nicholas was astounded. “You know them?”
“No, I know who they were; but before you rush off, consider this. These men are professional soldiers; they handle weapons with the highest expertise; so it will take more than a farm boy to stir fear in their veins.”
“You think I am a coward?” Nicholas almost snapped.
Reigel was calm. “I only recommend something less directly combative.”
“But you imply it. Maybe they have skills in the martial arts, but I will find a way to face them?”
“I am sure you will, but do it in a blind rage and you will be dead long before your revenge is sated; and even if by some miraculous chance you are not killed, all you will have become is the same as them.”
Nicholas was angry at the slight. “No. I could never be like them.”
“Few of us would be, but sometimes it is easier to hate than to forgive, and when we give in to our dark side it does not allow us to see or act with compassion”.
“Compassion, surely you are not suggesting that I forgive murders who have taken all that I love from me?”
“I merely point out that we all have it within us to be the person we despise.”
Nicholas’s words were hard. “They must pay, and I will do all that is within my power to see they do.”
“Then it is your life and your choice”.
“You said you know them?”
“I said I know who they are.”
“And where they are?”
“That too.”
It was more demand than request. “Then you will tell me?”
“So you can take revenge?”
“There can be no other reason.”
“Yes there is; and though it may be hard for you to accept at this moment, the captain is not to blame. I do not mean that he does what he is bidden unwillingly; but kill him and you will have done no more than pluck a leaf from a strangling vine. The creeper still lives, and beyond that the roots still suck their life from the soil. Come next spring the flowers will bloom again and nothing will have changed; other than you will probably be dead. The captain is no more than a tool to achieve a purpose: if you want revenge then you have to go much deeper to find who control him; and deeper still before you will understand that there is no single person’s death that your revenge can be sated upon.”
“These are mere words; someone, somewhere carries the responsibility for my family’s blood, and I need seek no further than the hand that held the knife.”
“Let me suppose a situation. You are a soldier in an army. Before you are the enemy, one, or some of them fired your home and committed unspeakable atrocities against your family, so you are prepared to do battle. You lunge forward and cut down the first man you meet and rejoice in your revenge.” He looked at Nicholas questioningly. “But revenge against whom? Was this the man who did the act; was he no more than yourself; a man seeking revenge of his own? Would you kill every single enemy before you knew your revenge was complete? When we kill in hate there are questions we refuse to ask, and images that we never see. A young woman, who gives birth to an innocent child who she must tell that someone, somewhere carries the blood of its father on their hands. What should that child do?”
Nicholas was silent for a moment. “It is not the same. This is a different situation, I know who I seek and that imaginary child would be a better person without a murderer for a father,” he said sulkily.
“Nicholas denial, grief, revenge amount to the same thing. They are reactions to a circumstance. For you they are not a purpose to live.”
The reply was sharp. “You would not say such empty words if you had, had to witness what I have?”
“What you have had to endure is at this moment unbearable. I may not know your grief, but I understand your feelings. I know too that you are not the first, and you will not be the last to step into such an abyss.”
“I don’t doubt your sincerity, but that does little to ease the pain”.
“And neither should it, pain is the force that drives us, and you will need that pain to sustain you through what is to come”.
“To come, I see nothing to come, only revenge. I have lost my family, and at this moment my friends, my home, my inheritance. What is left?”
“The future.”
“The future alone?”
“Nicholas nobody is ever who they seem, you are old enough to realize that. Sometimes we can be a stranger even
to ourselves. So how can you say who you are; what your destiny may be, or that you will share it with no one?”
“I know who I am, and what I must do.” Nicholas said firmly. “I must take my revenge; then return to Boramulla so that I can put my family’s business in order and protest my case to the Alderman. Then I swear I will see justice done and that whoever else is involved in this despicable crime is punished.”
“If that is your wish then do what you will.”
Nicholas looked at Reigel and thought of his father: he too would have been the voice of reason. He had a burning desire for revenge, but deep in his mind he knew the old man was right, lashing out would not guarantee success. It was not something he did not want to accept. “You suggest that I should put the death of my family, and my wrongful guilt behind me?”
“I ask that you consider what is the right path to follow. One will lead to your downfall, the other to your purpose. At this moment you may walk either way. You cannot bring back the ones you loved; but you could ruin the life they would want you to have; and as for clearing your name.” Reigel looked up towards the sky. “We all carry stigma of one kind or another.”
“Stigma?” Nicholas began to laugh. “I am a supposed murderer, that is not stigma?”
Reigel looked apologetic. “No it is not.”
As Nicholas listened he realized that despite the fact that he referred to the stranger as old, it was in reality hard to tell his age. True he stooped, and seemed weary, but there was something… “This is far more than stigma,” he said a lot more calmly. “If I was to do all you say, the fact remains that in the eyes of almost all the people I know, I am a murderer. I am a hunted man and will be until I clear my name. If I am not to remain under a cloud of guilt, what should I do?”
“More what you should not do, and you cannot return to your home. You were accused, found guilty, and executed, albeit by summary justice. To all in your village you are dead and it was deserved.”
“Neither can I just walk away,” protested Nicholas. “I have done no wrong; and if I am judged to have then the guilty will not pay: they must be brought to justice. I must clear my name for my family to rest in peace.”
“To the people who accused you, the truth doesn't matter.”
“Of course it does,” snapped Nicholas. He clenched his fists and raised his arms in anger and frustration. “I am not guilty. I could never...”
“I know that, but consider the facts. You were caught with the knife in your hands; you ran from the house: witness's heard your threats.”
“That was a cruel untruth,” he said bitterly. “I know not for what reason anyone should claim that?”
“They claimed it to create a situation that would rescue their plan.”
“Plan?” Nicholas was mystified. “There was a plan... No, no that can’t be...”
“The plan went as wrong as any plan could go. They expected you to be there and you were not.”
Nicholas stared at him stunned, had no words that could convey his utter confusion.
“Nicholas you must believe me that you will not be given a fair hearing, or even the chance to plead your case. No, your proof of innocence lies not here, but in Quone. I know I confuse you more, but the future will become clearer as time passes.” Reigel moved to sit closer to Nicholas, speaking slowly as he stared into the embers. “The events of last month...” He saw Nicholas’s eye's question him. “It was five weeks ago… When they found you; the Captain had known where you were as surely as if you had told him; and actually, you did. He followed your flight with a scent stronger than that followed by the hounds,”
“How can you know this?”
“I have been told by someone who saw much that happened.”
“Someone was there?” Nicholas gasped.
Reigel hesitated. “You were observed as you arrived at the house.”
“No, no one was there: I would have known?”
“This… observer is very good at seeing without being seen.”
Nicholas’s mood rose. “Then they must bear witness that I arrived after… Good, all comes into order,” he stood. “You must tell them, we must make haste to the house of the Alderman.”
Reigel sat still. “It’s not that easy,” he said softly.
“Not easy?” snapped Nicholas. “What kind of man is it that would stand by and condone such a miscarriage of justice?”
“It was not a man, it was a machine.”
“A machine… you don’t make sense?”
“The levels of technology I used to mend your body are capable of creating a machine that can observe and remember. To present a machine as evidence to the Alderman would do you little good. I’m sorry.”
Nicholas slowly sat back down as Reigel continued.
“I do not know the actual minutiae, but from what I do know of their plans I believe I have enough to reconstruct the rest. That is if you are ready to hear?” Reigel placed another log on the fire, letting Nicholas think of what he had said.
The youth said nothing so he continued.
“The fact is that you are the one they wanted to kill.”
He saw the youth ready to speak but stopped him with gesture of his hand.
“It is true it is you they wanted and you should have been home with your family. As I have said I don't know the details, but the intention would have been something on the lines that thieves killed everyone during a robbery. But as I said the plan went wrong when they found you were not at home. They waited for your return, and when you did not that forced the improvisation that you be implicated as the murderer. They could not let your family live as witnesses and if theft was to have been the motive then laying the blame on you removed the need for a fiction that a thief was in the district. There would be no mystery or doubt, or need to search. I imagine the Captain felt his plan; instead of disaster, had exceeded expectation, but perfect plans often are not. His planning would never have allowed for you to see them.”
“In the forest?”
“Yes; the five riders? All officers of the guard. It was they who made their way to your house, once at your door it would have been a simple task gaining access under the Marshals name. Otherwise I doubt your father would have opened it to five strangers in the dark.”
“Wait... Hold there. I can accept some of what you say, but if I am to believe that all you guess is true, then how do you know of what really happened to me. I would have known of your presence when I saw them, at least at some time I would have suspected it?”
“You told me while you slept.” Briefly a wry smile flashed in Reigel's eyes, then his expression changed and he continued. “The murders would have caused them little concern; they are not strangers to acts of barbarism. If it is of any consolation, I suspect your family would have had little suspicion of what was about to occur, and I doubt they would have known any pain; be thankful that these men are skilled at their work.”
Nicholas had a sick feeling in his stomach, but there was no gratitude.
“Another thing is I doubt they planned to delay their escape, but again it worked to their advantage. When you returned the alarm was raised. Then all they had to do was to stir bloodlust in a drunken mob.”
“That almost disturbs me most of all,” said Nicholas softly. “...These were people I had known all my life, yet they so quickly assumed such a thing of me. How could my friends… it was like they all relished…”
“Don't be too hard on the villagers. I won’t make any excuse for them, but they were as manipulated as you. For the captain's purpose it was a good solution that you be killed quickly by the angry mob, so they were led to believe that you had lost your mind, and killed their friends.”
Nicholas sat quietly listening, his thoughts slipping from disgust to horror, and back again. He had questions flying to his mind, only to be replaced by others before he could ask them.
“When you arrived at the scene, and took your knife from your fathers chest, a powder; unse
en, and unfelt was transferred to your hand. The captain has technology that enabled him to detect this substance; to know where you were, and what direction you were going.”
Nicholas’s was almost numb. “They knew?”
Reigel nodded his head. “You never had any chance of escape, but that was when things began to work in your favour.”
He saw the youth look questioningly at him.
“The most dangerous time in a battle is at the moment of victory. It is then we let our guard down, and our mind is swept away from caution; and that is when the Captain made his mistake. He felt so confident that all was running to plan, that his men could melt away quickly, and leave you to the mob. After all the secrecy, to have members of the guard visibly associated with your public death was a change that would not please his superiors.”
Both men now became silent. Reigel sat waiting, watching Nicholas, staring into the now dying fire. It seemed they were both entranced by the imagined pictures created by embers on the cooling logs. There was a splutter of flame as some small pocket of gas or resin caught alight that brought them both back out of their thoughts. Reigel put out his booted foot and pushed an unburned piece of timber back into the flames.
“That act of confidence was your salvation. If they had not have left when they did, you may have been too far-gone for any hope. As it was the rabble took fright easily at my arrival, though at first I was greatly concerned that I had arrived too late. Another blow; and it well may have been.” He looked into Nicholas’s eyes. “So here is it that I am what you see as a God. The cuts and broken bones were in essence mended as would have been done by the physician in your village, though with the help of medicines and practices far beyond his capability. More serious was what damage had been done to your internal organs, but if I am to simplify their functions, they are again no more than muscle and can be repaired as such. So you see no God in attendance to cure you there. But your head was a different matter”. Reigel’s glance flickered up to the crown of Nicholas’s scull. He lifted his hand. “May I?”
Nicholas held still as Reigel’s fingers brushed from above his nose to behind his left ear. Nicholas felt a shiver run down his spine as the stranger’s hands gently ran through his hair.
“Does that feel… Feel normal?”
“In what way do you mean?” said Nicholas hesitantly.
“Actually I’m not sure what it should feel like,” said Reigel equally inquiringly. “But I suppose the fact that it means nothing to you can only be positive.”
“Is that where…”
“Whichever one of your assailants struck that blow he meant to kill you.”
Nicholas felt a chill in his body that he had never felt before. He could accept the mobs behavior. He had seen inklings of such, rage; panic and fear; they were all one in the same, and could spread with lightening speed through a group. Especially a group tanked up on ale, but he had never considered anyone in the village could find such hate to do what they had.
Reigel broke into his thoughts. “You must not blame them.”
“Someone meant to kill me?”
“On that night at least five people did, the others were just pawns in their game.”
“But it wasn’t a game: someone I knew; spoke to, and maybe even was friends with tried to end my life as violently as they could?”
“And their reasoning was likely based on little more than a grudge, but it is the nature of man to put wild animals to shame.”
Realization flashed in Nicholas’s mind. “You know who it was, don’t you?”
Reigel stared solemnly at him. “You do not want to know.”
“I do.”
“And what will you do. Confront him; kill him. You don’t have many courses of action in such a circumstance.”
“A man should know his enemies.”
“He is not your enemy, he is a man wracked with guilt at what he did; like most of the people of your village. They were wrong, and now sober they know it; nothing can change that, other than maybe your forgiveness.”
Nicholas could not resist the urge to laugh
Reigel smiled with him. “One day you may think on my words in a different way, but we digress. I am supposed to be proving that nothing supernatural helped you, though I must say at this point that be it your deity, or luck; something was by your side in those last moments. The blow to your head caused major damage to your skull, protective membrane, and the lower region of your brain. In those miniscule seconds you verged on total incapacitation, or death. Your life was draining away and I had to halt the slide to oblivion by; shall I say putting you into a sleep so deep that your bodily functions ceased.”
“So to stop my body from stopping, you stopped it?” Nicholas shook his head. “I thought you were to explain that you are not a God?”
The exchange seemed to have relaxed both men, and Nicholas felt a great deal more comfortable as the still grinning Reigel continued.
“There are many things that may puzzle you, but to know everything at once would be too much. I have taken measures to ensure that you will at least have an understanding of things you will need to know; in fact that was why I asked how you feel: but later, first your injury. As I said you were on the verge of death. I halted that process, giving me time to take you to… To a place where the fragments of your skull could be removed from your brain without further damage.”
“My brain. You are talking about my brain being… being…” Nicholas felt very queasy.
“I have said several times that it was an incredibly severe blow.”
“Yes… I know. It just it feels… I am all right?”
“The tissue regenerated very well, well what tissue was going to, though there was a lot of bone fragments and splinters to be removed.” Reigel saw that Nicholas had subconsciously or not begun to stroke his head. “There is another thing you probably should know.”
Nicholas looked expectantly at him, almost past being surprised anymore.
“There was a part of your brain that was beyond recovery, and because of this you will find you’re... actions and thoughts may be slightly different to before.” He paused again noting that Nick’s eyes had lowered a little in anticipation of what was to follow. “In other circumstances I probably should have discussed it with you, but I had to make a decision, so during the reconstruction of that organ I also took the liberty of planting a device... with some ideas and information within it; it will all be…”
“Stop there,” interrupted Nicholas. “You are telling me that you filled my mind with your ideas?”
“No... No that’s too simplistic, and far from true. I did not place any of my personal ideas and beliefs. Such an act would be very wrong.”
“Then what did you do?”
“As I reconstructed your skull, I attached a small machine to the inside to compensate for the damage your brain sustained.”
Nicholas stared at Reigel. “One of us is out of our mind, and maybe it is I. You say my brain was damaged, yet I have seen people with damaged minds and I know that I am not one. You say you have rebuilt my brain and skull yet even our most experienced physicians say such things are not possible. You tell me you have put a machine inside my head, which will give me memories, which I do not have, and will enhance the senses I have known from birth. I have no idea of what you are telling me. All I know is that I should laugh at what you say; or run, because it is not I who has lost reality it is you.”
Reigel looked at the disbelieving youth trying to think of some way he could make the unbelievable, believable. “I understand this is confusing, and that much of what I am telling you is hard to understand or even accept as possible, and often we hear only what our brain thinks we can understand.” Reigel hesitated for only a second. “Think of the strumming of a guitar. Our brain hears it as a single musical sound, but our ears hear it as several individual resonances. Each string makes its own sound; that together create the strum. Blends of sound are all about us:
listen to the night; the silence is often full of sound. The crackling of the fire; the wind, in the trees, none of these are one single sound but many together.”
The youth was quiet.
“This wealth of new sounds may be bewildering; even disturbing at first but in time you will be able to suppress them.”
Still Nicholas said nothing.
“The information stored is of things you will need to know. At this moment you will be unaware of that information, but over time it will be released, or as events and recollections prompt the flow. It will be like a forgotten memory; but even then it will be only the most basic details. The rest you must learn for yourself.” Reigel stopped; he looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry that this was necessary. It is an invasion of your deepest privacy, and if you really demand it of me I will remove it: though considering what you intend with your second life it would not be in your best interests.”
Nicholas stared at him in disbelief. What was he to say? Surely Reigel had gone too far, yet he knew he had been severely beaten. If whatever this machine was, was removed, what would his life be like with his brain damaged. Five weeks ago, if that were as he had been told, he would have thought of Reigel as a madman, but now he was part of that madness? Before he could speak Reigel was talking again.
“You now should know that I am not a God, I am a man like you, a piece in the jigsaw that fate creates for each time. But men, not fate decided what has passed these last weeks. I have played my part, and now the order is back to where it was; and you must begin once again on your life, though from this crossroad it becomes part of the lives of others as well… I will tell you where to start, but from then on your life is once more your own: to use or waste as you choose. Beyond that I offer you one piece of advice Nicholas Day, and that is do not play the hero, for death stalks you, and it will come again. Next time I cannot help. At that time it will be fate’s choice for you. But if fate speeds your way, then maybe a succession of events will have begun that will ultimately bring freedom to your World. I wish I could do, or say all that I want to say, but I have broken many laws to come this far, and there can be no more. That I can’t help beyond what I have saddens me, for I fear that you are ill prepared. Life’s journey at the best of times can be a lonely one, and it will be an especially lonely one for you.”
Nicholas felt disheartened at Reigel’s words. Loneliness flooded over him as the grief of what he had lost swept again into his mind.
Reigel must have seen it on his face but he spoke on. “You must return to your home to collect two things. The house is still sealed as no beneficiary has yet been found, and it is your custom that un-bequeathed property will be shared around the community. That, that has not already happened is because your Alderman is still hesitating over the distribution to try and secure the best for his subordinate’s; but the period of mourning ends in two days, so it will happen then. The house and business has already been forfeited to the Marshal, and bears his great seal; he will confirm a tenant provider at the end of mourning. Nonetheless you must break the seal and enter; go to your mother's room, there you will find a small box. It contains a ring of yellow metal with a piece of stone set in it. You must take this ring. Secondly you must collect the throwing knife; the one that betrayed you.” He ignored the expression of distaste on Nicholas’s face. “…But do not touch its handle. That is vitally important. Wrap it in cloth, and keep it so until such time as you can lay it in the rays of the orb. Place it on either side for the time it takes to walk a thousand paces back and forth: is that clear?”
“Yes, I think so.” Nicholas sounded sad. “Must I lose everything?”
“Where you are going you will have no need of what you once considered precious.”
“Then where must I go?”
“To the Blood Mountains to seek out Simeon as bid by your father.” He saw the confusion the youth’s eyes but again he kept on. “Our lives are jigsaws. We can make no sense of only the one piece we see. But without your piece the picture cannot be finished. My part is to give you that chance. Your father knew what was required, but he can no longer play his part. Trust me, trust him; and take one step at a time.”
Nicholas nodded; he had no other choice.
Reigel stood. “My work here is done. I will leave you now, but maybe we shall meet at other times when our separate paths again cross?” With that he turned and walked into the cave without looking back.
Nicholas stood, looking at him as he disappeared through the entrance, his mind still reeling. “Wait. I must know more. With every word you speak, I know less,” he shouted after Reigel.
“In time,” a voice echoed from within the depths of the cavern.
Nicholas quickly followed into the cave, and then stopped: it was a dead end. The cave went no further than about twenty paces. Footprints led to the back wall and stopped: there was no exit only solid rock.
It was now past dawn, the mists had gone, and it bore as a good day for work, as he would have thought a few… a long time ago. No food had passed his lips; at least that he could remember, since his evening meal at the mill of Andrew Tabbetdan, Jonathon's father. Memories of piping hot dumplings in a rich broth came to his mind; even that thought did not make him particularly hungry. But he knew that, that would not last forever. For the moment there was nothing to do other than make plans for the return to his home. Dusk would be good, at the time of the evening meal when few were about the village. By then he would likely be hungry too, and could take supplies from the storeroom to last for a while, or at least all that he could carry.
He crossed the fields keeping within the shadow of the great Holokai hedges, until he came to a small copse overlooking the village. He would wait here until toward nightfall.
He lay back to rest, but didn’t feel tired, instead he sat up and looked down on what had been home all these years: trying to memorize every detail.
On his left the great river wound through the plains; somewhere far over the horizon he was told it ran into an ocean. It must be far away for all he could see was the dark green of distant irrigated land that followed on either side. Scattered along the waterway could be seen the red triangular sails of the barges as they plied their goods up and down the rivers length.
Below he could see his house, it looked deserted. Most of the village people were in the fields, going about their work as they had done for generations. The sight made him feel very lonely.
He forced his gaze back to the river and past the village to the tavern down by the timber dock. He had spent many afternoons fishing from there with Jonathon guessing when the bites were few at what cargo the ships were carrying, where they had been, or where they were going. His eyes followed the river upstream to where it disappeared on entering the forest. Running on unseen beneath the trees it wound its way to the distant chasm it had cleaved through the mountains in ages past, and on from there, to the gates of Quone-Loc-Sie.
He gazed towards that horizon. Somehow, there in that place known to him only by name, were the answers he sought.
He had never imagined going to the city, but now what else was there. His life in an instant had changed; all he had left now were questions, and he had to go where they could be answered.
More Quone-Loc-Sie, and other novels and stories by John Stevenson can be found by visiting
www.caelin-day.com
www.Australianstoryteller.com
www.Australianstorywriter.com
The Gift of Second Life Page 2