Preserving Hope

by Alex Albrinck

  Arthur picked up some dirt and let it sift through his fingers. “I didn’t know what I was doing as a father, and I know I did the job poorly. But for whatever it’s worth now, Elizabeth… I’m sorry.”

  He rose and headed back to the village, steeling his emotions, searching for the next means he could use on the way to his ultimate ends of controlling the whole world.

  XXV

  Confessions

  Will flexed the muscles in his hand. Satisfying as it had been, he knew he shouldn’t have punched Arthur. But the words had hurt him on multiple levels, and in ways Arthur would never know. The cruelest was the fact that Arthur’s words had revealed a truth to Will, one that he’d known deep down since he’d arrive in the past, but one which he’d avoided facing until now.

  He’d known that the purpose of this mission had been to ensure that Elizabeth survived into the distant future, so that she could meet his younger self. He’d known that meant that at some point, he would need to step aside, so that the younger Will could meet the woman he loved. Yet he knew he could never leave her in that manner.

  If he’d never leave the woman he loved… he must never be with her during this time in the past. It was the cruelest part of this mission and the one he knew would test him far more than resisting the temptation to kill Arthur, Maynard, and the others. He didn’t know if was a burden he could bear.

  Time travel really sucked at times.

  He winced. What if Elizabeth had one or more relationships before she met him in the future? It was not an impossibility, was it? She was a beautiful, intelligent woman, and he’d no doubt that she’d have her share of suitors. Could he deny her that?

  What if she had other children, born before Josh and Angel? Unfair though it might be, such knowledge would devastate him.

  Could he ask her to wait for him for an eternity, when he a strong suspicion that she’d be perfectly content to settle down with him now — so long as it was far away from the village in the woods?

  He sighed… and then realized he might have the answer to his questions close at hand. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper scroll computer, a device provided to him by his children and Adam in the future to give him guidance about his journey through the past. It had indicated that Eva was someone he could trust and confide in, and he had confided in her, at least to some degree.

  Would it provide him guidance in this troublesome situation? He unrolled it, and as he tapped the surface the screen lit up.

  You are her first and only love, as she is yours. The sanctity of your vows to each other will never be broken by either of you in any era. Be at peace.

  He rolled the scroll up and put it back into his pocket. One mystery solved, at least for him. Elizabeth might have an entirely different perspective on things.

  As he walked, he could feel the trees refueling his Energy, and he responded with gratitude, all the while walking with great haste away from the village. When his Energy levels reached the necessary levels and he was a sufficient distance from the village to be certain he wouldn’t be seen, he teleported into the cave. He lit his Energy lights, spreading the flame around until it illuminated the cavern.

  She was lying prone on the ground. Her eyes were open, but she did not move. Her breathing was strong and deep enough to be noticeable; it was shallow but without strain.

  He dispatched more Energy into her, continuing the healing process. The oxygen content here was high, and he found himself feeling better as he breathed in the purified, energetic air. He suspected that, after their monthly sessions building Energy, there was some strange affinity between the trees and Elizabeth; the slight trickle of Energy she was able to produce in her condition was enough to initiate the feedback effect, and the trees in the region had, in their growth due to that feedback, saturated the local area with the oxygen they produced. She was recovering in the natural equivalent of a hyperbaric chamber.

  Her physical recovery no longer in doubt, Will set about determining her mental recovery. She’d endured so much in her life, and yet the last few weeks, and especially the last few days, had amplified the pain she’d endured. Her mother had been taken from her for recognizing what Elizabeth had refused to acknowledge about her father, and her own generosity of spirit had refused to believe that what she recognized that day could not be changed. Even when Eva, the truest friend and protector and parental figure she’d known since Genevieve’s death, had been murdered at Arthur’s command, she’d still believed she could redeem him.

  And then, at her own greatest time of peril, when whatever goodness in him had its chance to rise to the surface and defend her — instead, he’d disowned her, casting her aside to be destroyed by an angry mob.

  She’d identified herself by her parents, and especially her mother, believing that her blood was her destiny. What Will wanted her to recognize was that she was able to define her own character and her own destiny. For that to happen, he needed her to understand his background, and the past he’d worked hard to move beyond and define himself as he wanted to be.

  He moved to her and dropped down on his knees by her side. “Elizabeth?”

  He put a hand on her forehead. She was cool to the touch, but not cold, much as one might be after recovering from a fever or a cold. He noted her steady breathing, and the fact that the swelling and bruising had cleared from her face. But her face was contorted, as if dealing with an emotional agony. He could almost see her reliving the terrors. He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Elizabeth?”

  She didn’t speak or project to him, but he did feel a gentle squeeze of his hand. It wasn’t much, but at least she was acknowledging his presence.

  “I’m going to help you recover, Elizabeth, and then—”

  Why, Will? Her projection was powerful and full of despair. Why do you want to help me? No one else does. No one else ever has, at least not at first. My mother feared him so much that she didn’t defend me; Eva only did what she did after first rejecting me. My own father…

  He waited for her to finish her thought, but the mention of Arthur was sufficient to silence her once more.

  He took a deep breath. He’d been deceived, denied critical information, and in general not been trusted to handle that information well. He’d told Angel that he believed knowledge, once understood, should be shared widely, and not kept in limited hands. He’d never had the chance to make decisions about his own life and his own destiny at any point after the fire. Instead, he’d been tricked about the actual nature — and duration — of his mission. Though he’d understood the motivation and reasoning, the reality was that he believed he deserved the right to make the decision about this journey knowing what he was actually going to do. He was angry about the lack of trust shown him.

  He was now in their position, the one with the answers, with someone who lacked that complete information, someone whose life was at stake. He looked at her, and as he watched, her eyes, finally free of swelling, fluttered open, and he was able to look into the eyes of his wife.

  She deserved the truth.

  “Why?” He spoke aloud, because he could not be overheard, and because he wanted her to speak aloud as well, to force her to be awake and responsive. “Why do you deserve to live and thrive? People like you are rare, Elizabeth. It would have been easy to quit on that village and run away, and yet even when people saw that would be to your advantage and offered to help, you refused. Why? You wanted to make things right there, especially with Arthur. You didn’t wait for them to change; you figured out how you personally could be that force for change for the good, and you did what you needed to do. Do you understand how rare that is? Most people would have quit, would have waited for ‘somebody’ to make the change. I think that’s one reason why I was sent here to save you — we need more people like you, Elizabeth.”

  Her eyes had been unfocused, but they now sharpened at his words. What do you mean about being sent here, Will?

  “I did not arrive her
e by chance, Elizabeth. I was sent here, with the specific instructions to protect you and save your life. I could have forced you to leave, but I don’t believe in forcing others to behave how I want them to behave. When I learned you wanted to stay, I worked to enable you to do that, but always watched to make sure that, at a minimum, no one could ever physically hurt you.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. That makes no sense, Will. Why would anyone want to save me? I’m nothing. I’m nobody.

  Will shook his head. Her shattered confidence was another terrible consequence of the scheme Arthur had executed, one which, Will now knew, had been based on what Arthur believed was a lie. She needed the truth, the full truth, but he still feared saying the words.

  He chose to provide something else instead. “He said you looked like your mother, but for the hair. He said she had hair the color of Eva’s.”

  Elizabeth shuddered. Yes. She did.

  “And he… gave you something to take with you, forever. Something he said you were meant to have, something she wanted you to have.”

  At this, her eyes opened wide, not shining as bright as he’d seen in the past, but hardly looking like one who’d been recently beaten to death. The swelling, lacerations, and bruising were still fading. “What was it?” She’d finally spoken out loud. Progress.

  “It was a necklace. And a hair pin.”

  “My mother loved that necklace,” Elizabeth said, and it was clear that the nanos, oxygen, and Energy flow were working a miracle. “Before my father… employed me, back when there were just a few people in this community, they’d all travel to neighboring towns together to trade what they made. They’d leave one man behind to guard the neighborhood. It wasn’t like one man could stop an army, but then, what good would ten of them do against a large number of knights, right? On one of those trips, they sold everything they brought with them and split up the profits. They all walked around that town, marveling at everything they could buy, and most everything spent was practical. But they all had enough left over to buy something nice. My mother saw this necklace and loved it, but she’d already bought a few other things and couldn’t afford it. Somehow, and I still don’t know how to this day, he got enough money to buy it and give it to her. It’s the only time I’ve heard of him doing something so selfless.

  “She treasured that gift, because she knew how much of a sacrifice it had been for him. When they decided to send three people to travel abroad, she went, because she remembered that kindness.” She closed her eyes again. “I wish I knew what happened to that man, a man who was capable of an act of… love… like that.”

  Will, who felt himself at nearly full strength, visualized the inside of the coffin, focused on the velvet pouch, and teleported it to the cave. He then focused on her room, ensured that nobody was inside, and began teleporting everything she owned to the cave, all of the bags under her cot and under a loose floorboard in her room. Elizabeth gasped as a dozen bags of coins appeared at her side, but her still-recovering eyes focused with the greatest intensity on the pouch. Will picked up the small pouch, and emptied out the contents. He held the necklace out to her.

  She accepted it, and held it up to look at it, seeing in that necklace the story of the first woman to sacrifice a life in her behalf. She glanced at Will. “Will you help me put it on?”

  He nodded, and helped her to a sitting position. Elizabeth held up her hair, matted together still from the blood and sweat that coated it after her beating. Will fumbled to open the necklace, but in the end managed to fasten it around her neck.

  She looked up at him, and he gasped, for the machines and Energy had done their work at an exceptional rate, and the swelling and bruising were now fully gone. In that moment, the look on her face reminded him so much of her future self that he had to look away.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He tried misdirection. “You never told me how you learned about your… abilities.”

  She paused, as if sensing he was avoiding something. To his relief, she didn’t push it. Yet.

  “It was one of those days when I went to the Schola, the only day for many years that Mother didn’t go with me. I don’t even remember who I worked with… wait, no, it was one of the Travelers, but I can’t recall which one. I don’t think he’s here now, though. At any rate, he pulled out a handful of berries and handed them to me. They smelled like manure and tasted like… well, they tasted like they smelled. The man showed great sympathy as he watched my reaction, which was unusual. Most of them seemed to be waiting to see if I’d suddenly start floating or something. He didn’t. He put a hand on my shoulder to comfort me as I choked those berries down, and tried to soothe me as it seemed like my entire insides were being scraped with a knife and set on fire. When I thought it was over, it got worse. I… well, it wasn’t a pretty scene at the end. He didn’t scold me, or complain that I’d failed, or hit me, like so many eventually did. What was truly strange was that it looked like he expected my reaction, and was bracing himself for it. His face looked terribly pained, like it hurt him more than me. He carried me back to my room, put me on my bed, and brought me some water to drink. I found out later he’d cleaned up the mess in the Schola. Most of the time, people expected me to clean up everything, even if what they’d forced on me left me sick or unconscious. It was so much worse to suffer through something like that and then, after you recovered, to have to go back and clean and remember what I’d gone through. It was as if suffering once wasn’t enough.

  “He left the next day on a journey, and as far as I know, he hasn’t been back since. But the next day I felt better than I’d ever felt, and I noticed some warmth. And I could hear what people were thinking, and knew what they were feeling, but I figured it was just my imagination.

  “Over the course of the next few years, I eventually realized that if I took those berries every few months, and the zirple every day, I never got sick and that odd warmth got a little stronger each day. I didn’t know what the warmth was, though. I just knew that I could look sick if I wanted to look sick, but I felt terrific. Physically, anyway. Emotionally, I was truly starting to realize what was happening to me was wrong, was… evil, and that my father knew it and didn’t care. Mother knew that, of course, and that’s why she’d come with me, why she’d moved us out of the large home built specifically for our little family and into the one-person room next door. She wanted to keep me away from Father, because she could tell what was happening to me, especially when I’d wake up in the morning. She didn’t want Father to see that and realize what was happening. She hoped I’d get strong enough to fight him, and the others, before they’d realize what was happening. If not, she feared they’d destroy me.

  “A few months before you got here, Mother and I were sitting at the table in my room. I whispered and told her that I’d been feeling wonderful, even though I did everything I could to look terrible. I didn’t want these people figuring out that I’d discovered something, even if I didn’t know what it was. She smiled at me, and I know now it was because she was proud of me, proud of me for figuring it all out. About the berries and the zirple and… about Father.

  “While we were there, that warmth got more intense than I’d experienced before, and I was uncomfortable. I just tried to throw it off, and a cup across the room suddenly slammed against the wall and shattered. It was right where the warmth would have gone if I had actually thrown it, which is exactly what I’d done. Mother nodded at me and smiled, and told me to never tell Father about anything I actually figured out how to do; she was cautioning me for the future. But Father had started to listen outside the room; he’d been walking by and had heard the cup shatter. So he was there, listening in, and heard her tell me not to share what I knew.” She looked at him, and he could see the effort it took to hold back the tears. “You know what happened next.”

  He nodded.

  “When we buried her, I managed to slip away. I wandered around, and somehow found a cave. This cave, in fact. I stayed here
for three days, and didn’t do anything but try to figure out what the warmth was. I realized it went where I put my attention, and that I could control it wherever I sent it, even outside of me. I could heal myself, or make myself look horrible, or move things with my mind, even move things instantly from one place to another, though only a dozen feet or so. I figured out that I could wrap that warmth around everything I was ordered to eat or drink and basically guide it through me without my body actually trying to use it, so I wouldn’t actually get sick. I could look like I’d been made sick, of course.

  “While I was here, in this cave, I realized it was my chance to leave. They didn’t know where I was. I could run away, and they’d never find me. But I didn’t. I thought that would make me a coward. I was fifteen years old, and I’d never really had a childhood. I was basically a slave. The people who made me a slave had escaped from being slaves themselves, and one of them was my own father. I had no reason to have hope that life could get better, but I also had no reason to think life would be any different anywhere else. I had no basis to think that people could be anything other than those in the village; that was my whole world, and my whole impression of what people are. Yes, I could leave the familiar evil, and I had no reason to think that my father would start treating me as his daughter, as someone he actually loved. But without reason to believe I’d be trading it for something better, there was no reason to move.

  “But I wanted to hope for the best. I wanted to be there and help them, however I could, to be better people. I knew what they were doing was evil, and I worried that it meant that they were doomed forever. And I worried that if I didn’t help to… cure them, I would be evil, too, and I didn’t want that. I don’t want to be evil, Will! So I went back, full of hope, but each day proved to me that they were beyond help. Eva was the only one who truly came around; she treated me like I was her daughter, like I thought a parent should treat their child. Some of the others treated me with some decency, but I knew how they really felt. They were just doing what they thought they had to do to remain Traders, because they liked that work. Being decent to me was just a means to an end, not what they truly believed and felt. Eleanor, at least, was honest. The rest? They were doing it to feel good about themselves, but they would be happy to let me suffer if needed. They proved it last night, when the mob attacked.