Adam floated to the ground and wiped the tears from his face. He’d felt the emotional pain of his father’s mental self-flagellation as if it had been his own, had only just separated himself from his father’s mental morass in time to prevent the suicide. He took a deep breath, not bothering to hide the noise.
No one would hear him.
He let the nanos dissolve, the need for invisibility now moot. He’d sense any approaching humans, had no concerns about the few small predators happening upon them and doing anything other than running from the crackling flames. He pulled the top of the blanket aside, grabbed the sharp knife, slid it back inside the sheath, and fastened it shut.
Then he used Energy and moved back into his father’s mind, into his memories, into the facts the man’s mind established based upon those memories, the reality framework through which the man viewed the world.
And he began to tinker, much as he’d done to Hope’s mind just before the Hunter attack, but far more deeply, far more subtly. He didn’t erase anything, just hid things, setting a trigger through which he and he alone could let his father find those memories again, allow his reality to return to what he knew today.
It took nearly an hour, but Adam found and buried all memories of his father’s time with Genevieve, and with those memories—of the night itself, of the clandestine conversations after, of any thought he’d had about Elizabeth—buried, his father’s understanding of his relationship with Genevieve and Elizabeth changed to that which the rest of the village believed. He saw Elizabeth as Arthur’s child in fact as well rather than just in practice, that he simply adored the charming little girl like others in the village, that Genevieve was a kindly woman caring for a child in a harsh environment, a strong woman who deserved his respect and admiration, but was nothing more to him than a neighbor, a friend.
His father’s physiology visibly changed as the reprogramming happened, as if years of stress melted from his frame.
He’d changed enough to keep his father alive. But he knew the man’s pride—not his sense of duty now, but his pride—would keep him away from the village for a time, months or even years. He needed something, something that would occupy him for some time; that would keep him far from the North Village.
He nudged his father’s thoughts just a bit more, letting the man’s mind connect his dramatic departure and need to avoid an immediate return with what would seem an obvious end goal.
The elder Adam, the nameless one, would return to the land of his birth, now as a fully-grown man. He’d ignore the banishment, and would once again challenge his oldest brother, staking his claim to be the leader of his people.
He would earn the title of the name he now used. Or die trying.
His son, also known as Adam, took a deep breath. He thought for a moment, then implanted a small batch of nanos inside his father’s body. He’d be able to track those devices no matter where his father might be during his travels.
He repositioned the blankets and set a small sphere of Energy around the man, discouraging nocturnal predators both human and animal from attacking the sleeping man.
Yes, he’d need those tracking nanos, because his father had nine years of travel ahead before they’d meet again. And though Adam had a general idea of where they’d rendezvous, it wasn’t precise. The nanos would save valuable time.
He wouldn’t have to wait nine years, though, not as he lived it, thanks to the time machine.
But he had a few other things to take care of first.
~~~20~~~
Adam returned to the time machine and plugged in the next set of coordinates before activating the time circuits, disappearing into the void between times, skipping ahead as events unfolded in the normal time arenas.
1007 A.D.
The elder Adam’s departure from the village left a major gap not just in the self-contained economy in the village, but in its spirit as well. Though no others departed, his continued absence led many to question practices, at least in private conversation. The extra work burdens that fell on all of them in his absence increased the emotional intensity of those conversations exponentially as the days and weeks passed.
Arthur noticed, and recognized, that he’d soon see his fragile hold on the village evaporate if things didn’t change, and quickly.
He encouraged a quick, small trading mission, with a focus less on selling wares and purchasing supplies, and more on recruiting. Most of the villagers traveled along this time, leaving only two people behind to stand guard in their absence. The recruiting efforts succeeded, netting the villagers new residents with specialized skills in woodworking, physical security… and baking.
The brief vacation also increased morale, and the improved attitudes infected those left behind as well when the majority returned. The newcomers brought great enthusiasm, a reduced workload compared even to previous years’ workloads when at full strength.
Soon, Adam’s tirade and departure were little more than interesting tales from a seemingly distant past, treated as myth more than reality by the majority, especially the newcomers who’d never known the traveling former villager.
With the newcomers came the need to add new housing. The villagers bonded over the construction of new cottages, filling in the gaps left along the wall. They also reinforced the walls, giving the villagers an added sense of security while they slept at night.
Elizabeth fully recovered physically from her near-death experience, but the haunting memory of her limp, pale, unmoving body stayed with all of them. Though they held no formal discussions and made no agreements on the almost verboten topic of Adam’s tirade and recommendations, the villagers generally avoided “testing” more than twice per month, which kept Elizabeth’s health in a much better state. In hearing the story later, Adam could only wonder if the girl’s growing Energy might have influenced those new, unspoken rules of engagements.
The newer villagers showed little interest in the odd talk of “magic;” they were far more interested in the idea of having an occasional paid “servant” tidying up their cottages. It enhanced the sense of wealth possessed by each villager, and each worked harder to afford purchasing that sensation on a more regular basis.
Arthur, sensing this better than anyone devoid of Energy could, raised Elizabeth’s daily rate to take advantage of the increased demand.
Elizabeth began helping both of her parents perform their daily work, which she did in the mornings before tackling the chores for which her “father” received payment. With the Energy inside strengthening her both physically and mentally, she looked older than her years. They thought her fiery blue eyes gave her an almost ancient look, as if she understood the world at a level none of them could fathom.
Additional new residents joined the village. They’d started with ten and grown to eleven with Elizabeth’s birth, then dropped again with Adam’s loss. Continued, accelerated recruiting saw the village population swell past thirty.
Most of them were friendly.
But not all of them.
1008 A.D.
The time circuits shut down, the latest hop complete. He’d whisked forward in time just over a year, and looked forward to seeing how the village and villagers had changed during that time.
He wasn’t looking forward to his prescribed task, though.
Not even a little bit.
Before he’d worry about it, though… he’d sleep.
~~~21~~~
1008 A.D.
The chiming sound increased in volume and intensity until he woke. Adam yawned, stretched, and found a bottle of water in his travel pack. The water was a bit warm, but it retained the sweet freshness of Eden even now.
He’d slept poorly, spending much of the time dreaming about the events of… yesterday? Last year? How did one talk about “when” something happened when one only existed for a day or two at a time along a calendar of years? Adam yawned again, letting his mind wake as he pondered that mystery. As he’d lived it, it had been only yesterd
ay that he’d last seen his half-sister, an adorable five-year-old girl with flaming red hair who’d nearly died at the hands of their foolish but well-meaning father. The man had whispered a vow she’d never remember, promising that he’d be a better protector somehow. Perhaps that was why the man had teleported in to take a death blow meant for her back in 1941; he’d never forgiven himself for nearly taking her life, and he’d never live with himself if he failed to protect her yet again.
Today—as he lived it—little “Lizzie” would be six years old, and he wondered how she’d changed in the calendar year that had passed. He’d never had children of his own, of course, but he’d been around the Stark children during their formative years. He knew change happened rapidly for growing children, and wondered if he’d even recognize her. No, that wasn’t right; they wouldn’t have any other children in the village, not unless his mother had forgotten that detail in her retelling her tales of this era.
He ate a bit of the food he’d brought from the past—he’d forgotten to eat yesterday, and his stomach reminded him of that offense—and washed it down with the rest of the water in the bottle. After the food and drink settled, he rechecked his Shield, detonated an Energy Eater, and built up his invisible exoskeleton. He needed to do some initial reconnaissance on the village before the following morning. He’d collated the details of stories told by those who’d lived during this time, and had identified the following day as the next time he’d intervene in history.
None of the storytellers could give him the most critical detail, though. That was a good thing, because it meant he’d covered his tracks well. But it also meant he had to stop in a day early to find the answer to his critical question.
Once he had his answer, he’d carry out his plan… and even with all his preparation, this would be his greatest opportunity yet for exposure.
He floated down above the forest, blinking to help his eyes adjust to the bright mid-afternoon sun. He dipped below the tree canopy, negating the need for the eye adjustment, and lazily floated down over the village. It bustled with activity, and he realized just how proficient they’d been at bringing in new residents. He scanned the crowd, finding more unfamiliar than familiar residents, but finding no one missing from among those who might have comprised his mother’s estimate of half the villagers leaving in protest over Elizabeth’s treatment.
She’d clearly been mistaken.
He scanned the crowds until he found a patch of white blond hair. He watched as she worked, tending the animals they kept in the barn. She’d shoveled the old straw from the stalls earlier and now worked to replace it with fresh bales, then spent time feeding the half dozen goats they kept inside the small paddock. Her young assistant, Lizzie, was trying to feed a small flock of baby chickens, but spent most of the time chasing them around, giggling as the chicks easily evaded her clumsy grasp. She eventually gave up, gathered up a bit of grain, and spread it on the ground, backing away to give the young chicks room to eat in peace. Genevieve’s bemused glance followed her daughter the entire time. Once the chicks had been fed, she reminded Lizzie that several of the other animals required feeding, and Lizzie frowned, finally remaining still long enough for Adam to get a good look at her.
She looked far older than six; her face looked as if it was chiseled from pale white marble, her hair looking more fiery and red in contrast. Her eyes seemed twenty years older now, sparkling with a gleam he recognized as Energy. The sparkle wasn’t strong enough to catch the attention of those without Energy activated, at least not yet. Her eyes told a story, the story of a young girl around people unaware of her telepathic and empathic gifts communicating to the child far more than they knew or intended. He watched as she finished her work, watched as she left to gather water from the well and drink, savoring the refreshing coolness, watched her subtle reactions as others walked by or joined her.
Her posture and facial expressions made clear that she knew with certainty who her friends were, knowledge gained through the untrained use of her budding empathic and telepathic power. And she knew the list of her friends wasn’t very long.
His focus shattered as the village gate slammed open. Adam watched as a large man walked through the entrance, one hand dragging behind him the body of a deer, the other clutching a large, bloodied sword. Evidence of the hunt splattered over his clothing and boots. Lizzie’s eyes flashed to the man and widened. Her reaction wasn’t because she grieved for the slaughtered animal.
She feared this man, feared him more than any other in this village, including her so-called father.
The hunter hauled the carcass toward the centralized conglomeration of ovens. They used some for cooking and baking, others to fire pottery a few of the newer residents crafted for the villagers and the residents of nearby towns. Adam floated along above, curious as to the name of the man, curious as to what he’d do with his prey. Arthur was there, of course. They’d brought in more bakers, more chefs, but Arthur hadn’t given up his role in preparing the food for the village. He’d take his time retiring from a role that literally fed those he led… and controlled.
Arthur’s eyes tracked the man, then lit up as he saw the new source of meat. The giant hunter produced a knife and skillfully peeled away the hide, exposing the muscle and fat they’d cook for the nourishment of the villagers. Arthur conjured up several coins and handed them to the giant, who nodded that payment had been made in full. Arthur and his team took the meat and began preparing it while the man fetched a small bit of water from the well for drinking. He then took the skin he’d just produced from the deer they’d soon consume as venison, scrapped off a stray bit of blood and ligament, and hauled it to one of the men working on reinforcing one segment of the exterior village wall. The man noted the deer pelt with great interest, nodded at the words the giant spoke, and returned to his work on the wall. The giant picked the pelt up and walked to the expanded row of cottages, stopping before one near the back corner. He rested the pelt upon the window opening and walked away. Adam suspected that the man working on the wall would make use of that pelt, perhaps turning it into clothing.
Adam found himself oddly fascinated by the giant. He floated along, following the man as he marched back out of the village into the surrounding forest, watched as he moved among various traps checking for any captured game. The man then walked out of the forest and headed to the Halwende river, using the water to rinse the blood and grime from his sword. He dried the blade on the grass, checked the surface, plucked a stray blade from the metal surface, and finally slid the sword back into a sheath stretched from left shoulder to right hip across his broad back. He then knelt by the river, splashing water into his hair and onto his face, rinsing the gore and splatter from the death stroke away.
Adam floated back to the village and watched as the villagers carried out their work in a manner that seemed art-like, a symphony of movement rather than music, the noises generated by the various professions combining to form an almost symphonic harmony.
He found Arthur and floated over. Fascinating though the village life might be, interesting though the giant might be, Adam had a job to do. And that job mandated that he stay near Arthur, for the information he needed would come from the man here that he hated most.
He could tap directly into the man’s mind, of course. It wouldn’t take long, and it would be quite easy. But he’d do that only as a last resort, shuddering at the mere thought of what he might find, bound by promises he’d made long ago to stay out of the minds of the untrained and trained alike except in cases of extreme emergency.
Like stopping a suicidal person from carrying out their plans for death.
The giant returned, entering through the gates with too much physical presence to ignore. He maneuvered his way around people traveling between work areas, heading to and from cabins, heading outside the gate to handle some aspect of work and then back inside. He bypassed the well this time, having satisfied his thirst at the river, and made a beeline for the food prepara
tion area.
The first hint of aroma of the cooked venison wafted toward his nose, but Adam paid it little attention, snapping internally at his suddenly loud and grumbling stomach. He figured the hunter, having completed his work for the day, had simply gotten here first, ready to get a prime cooked piece of the meat he’d supplied to the cooks.
But the man made no indication that he’d come by to purchase meat. Or any other food.
Adam felt a lump in his throat. He felt fear, fear that the giant approached Arthur about another transaction, a transaction he’d come to trace. He needed to know who would pay Arthur for time with Elizabeth the following day.
Arthur finally recognized the giant’s presence, glanced his way, and then nodded in the direction of the barn, an arched eyebrow asking the same question Adam had.
The giant nodded once.
And just like that, Adam had confirmation of the information he needed for his work the following day. It would be the giant working with little Lizzie.
As the man walked back out of the village, perhaps for a final check of his traps, perhaps in pursuit of additional meat for the village, he glanced toward the open barn doors, where the small, red-haired girl helped her mother carry eggs toward the bakers. Lizzie saw the giant and stared at him, unable to hide in her facial expression the disgust she felt for him.
He just smiled at her, smiled in a way that chilled Adam.
For he knew who the giant was now, having matched his observed physical characteristics to the physical description of this man in the tales his mother told, from the stories Will shared from years yet to come, and confirmed the man’s identity through Elizabeth’s obvious hatred for the man.
It meant that his work the next day would hold a special emotional challenge for him.
Adam's Journey (The Aliomenti Saga - Book 8) Page 10