Preserving Hope (3 page)

“Hello,” he said. “My name is Will Stark. I have traveled without pause these past many days and nights. My feet need a rest and my stomach needs a hearty meal. I was wondering if I might trouble you for a spot to sleep and food to eat. I have money to pay you for the trouble.”

As Will spoke, the man in the front who had halted the procession into the neighborhood move toward him, eyes narrowed. He had wavy blond hair, rather longer than Will suspected was standard, and moved in a predatory fashion. Behind him, the other members of the community moved to a sufficient degree to enable everyone to enter the village inside the walls, and then the gate closed noisily behind them. Will was now trapped, or so they thought.

The blond man moved toward Will, drawing a short sword stowed in a sheath attached to the loose belt around his waist, and pointed it toward Will. “How did you find this community? How did you enter? Speak, sir, and truly, or your life will be forfeit.”

Will froze as he recognized the voice. The speaker was the man he knew as The Leader, who would, in the distant future, order the executions of Will, his wife, Hope, and their son, Josh. Thankfully, the orders hadn’t been successfully carried out. Will had to exercise iron control of himself to avoid blasting the man with Energy. He’d promised not to hurt anyone before he’d left, and had reaffirmed that decision once he’d arrived. Though the promise had been made without full knowledge of his mission, he intended to abide by it. The crowd probably thought the deep breaths were to calm his fears at being outnumbered and facing the point of a sword, rather than to prevent him from destroying the man in front of him. It was an assumption he was glad to let them have, much as he’d let them suspect he had no Energy skills.

Will smiled, risking transmitting a small bit of trusting empathic Energy toward the man and those behind him. “Peace, sir. I mean you no harm. I have been traveling many days outdoors, and wished for some shade. I spotted the forest and entered, and as I did I saw the wall. I called out, hoping someone would answer, but none did. For a community of this size I was surprised that none responded, and so I scaled the wall and entered, fearing I might find the residents in some form of distress. But I found no one here. A few moments later, I heard you returning from wherever you had gone.”

The man considered this, then lowered and sheathed his sword. “My apologies, sir. You strike me as an honest man. We value our privacy, as evidenced by our secluded location, and as such visitors are a surprise and considered a potential threat until we can determine otherwise.”

Will raised his hands. “I assure you, I bear you no malice. I am unarmed, and thus could not harm you without first obtaining a weapon. I am no threat to any of the people here.”

“I believe you, and I did notice the lack of a weapon,” the man replied. He held out his hand. “Arthur Lowell.”

Will accepted it, shaking firmly. “Will Stark.”

“Welcome to the community, Will. We go by first names only around here, so I advise you to introduce yourself only as Will in order to fit it.” He smiled. “You now know my surname, but I trust that I shall never hear it uttered by your lips. We will provide you with water and you may tell us your story. We are a private community, but if the right man comes along we are always willing to add another to our number.” He looked around. “Elizabeth! Where are you?”

Will heard a strange sound, a sound like a flute, producing a beautiful tone. He remembered that he could “hear” Energy, and that different people produced different sounds. Will watched as a girl of about sixteen, with vibrant red hair matted against her face from the moisture, emerged from the crowd and turned to face Arthur Lowell. Her appearance aligned with an increasing volume of the flute-like sound, a sound Will realized only he could hear. “I’m here, Father,” she said, her voice trembling, and she shifted her eyes to the ground after risking a glance in Will’s direction.

Will managed to keep from gaping. The girl was, indeed, Hope, though she was younger than when he’d met her and had red hair rather than platinum blonde. The eyes didn’t lie. He’d known his grown son just from seeing the man’s eyes, and was able to do the same with the woman who would become his wife.

Correction: with the
girl
who would become his wife. She was not the woman he would marry, not yet.

“Fetch Will a mug of water and some bread,” Arthur snapped. “Be quick about it, girl!”

“Yes, Father,” Elizabeth replied, her voice lacking any emotion. She hurried off.

“Come, Will,” Arthur said, clasping Will’s shoulder. “We shall retire to my home to discuss your history and determine if there is mutual interest in your joining us. Are you married? Any children?”

Will shook his head. “My wife and son are very recently deceased. Murdered. I am looking for a new start to my life, away from anything that would remind me of my loss.” Will thought that comment ironic, given that his wife was on her way to get him something to drink

Arthur nodded, his face filled with sympathy. “I understand. I am recently widowed myself.”

“My sympathies.” Will said, wondering if that death might have been accelerated by the man called Arthur Lowell.

The crowds passed them, heading toward the buildings at the far end of the community. A young woman with platinum blond hair paused as she was walking by. “Is Elizabeth coming by later, Arthur?” There was a chill in her voice, and Will sensed powerful animosity toward Arthur.

“Yes, Eva. I’ll get Will situated and then bring her by.”

“Thanks, Arthur.” She headed toward the collection of small dwellings on the opposite end of the community.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder. “Coming, Will?”

Will glanced at the woman called Eva and found himself wondering what the verbal exchange was about. He walked with Arthur Lowell and entered the largest of the dwellings, the building nearest the ALIO INCREMENTUM SCHOLA.

As he watched Arthur walk in front of him, Will was bombarded with memories of the man, memories of the few moments they’d spent in each other’s presence in the distant future. In each of those circumstances, Arthur, as The Leader of the Aliomenti, had authorized his Hunters to kill Will. Arthur had also authorized the Hunters to kill Hope because of Will’s supposed transgressions. He’d most likely approved the murder of Josh as well. What kind of man would authorize the killing of innocents? What kind of man would authorize the murder of his own daughter? His anger began to simmer, and Will felt his Energy levels rising, striving to escape his body and end the life of the evil man walking in front of him.

II

Oath

Will managed to calm himself as he entered Arthur’s home. He’d promised his children and Adam that he wouldn’t blast someone to death in the past, no matter how much he might think they deserved such a punishment. Though the terms of his travel had changed, he wasn’t going to break his word. No matter how much a man like Arthur might deserve to die, killing him now would mean murdering a defenseless man in cold blood, and the alteration of history might mean other key events in his life would never happen. Would his children still exist? Would future Hope still meet future Will? Would future Will still exist? In an effort to calm himself, Will looked around the house to adjust himself to eleventh century living.

Though larger than the single-person dwelling rooms populating the community, the Lowell home was too small to allow for any room partitioning. Will, accustomed to separate rooms for sleeping, food preparation, dining, washing, and study, found the lack of walls almost disturbing.

To his right, Will saw a single bed against the back wall, and closer to him, he saw a single, sturdy wooden table large enough to seat four people. Three rough-hewn wooden stools surrounded the table; Will assumed those were for Arthur, his wife, and Elizabeth. He wondered where Elizabeth’s mother was, then remembered Arthur had said his wife had recently died. Will noted the lack of a fireplace in the house, or anything that might be used to prepare meals. He wondered how the family secured and prepared the food they ate. He would learn in time.

To his left, Will saw two beds, and Will wondered why there were three beds in the home if the couple shared one and Elizabeth used the other. He was struck with an odd thought: did Elizabeth have a sibling, living here now, that he’d never known existed? Had that sibling survived into the distant future as well?

Large chests rested at the foot of each bed, which Will assumed held changes of clothing or any valuables the Lowells might own. An additional chest rested against the rear wall. Two windows framed the single door into the residence, and two more could be found on the rear wall; the windows were simply openings cut into the wall and covered with pieces of cloth which could be tied back. Several candles were placed throughout the house, with the bulk of the collection sitting on the table near the door.

Arthur motioned to the table. “Please, Will, have a seat.” As Will pulled out a stool and sat down, Arthur glared back at the door. “Where
is
that girl? It should not take so long to fetch bread from the stores and water from the well. She’ll see the belt for sure over this.” He turned to face Will. “My apologies, sir. You must think me a poor host. One should not wait long for hospitality.”

Will shook his head. “Not at all, sir. Given that you were ready to run me through with your sword a few moments ago, I’m certainly not complaining about anything happening now.” He smiled.

Arthur sighed. “A woman should learn her place at an early age. Elizabeth, I fear, has not had good role models in that regard. I should not have to tell her to fetch you refreshment. I hope you don’t judge us too harshly for that.” He looked up, a pleading look on his face.

“No,” Will said, dryly. “I won’t judge you too harshly for that.”

The door burst open, and Elizabeth stood in the entryway. She held a pitcher in one hand, presumably filled with water, and a mug in the other, with a loaf of warm bread tucked under her arm. Will, who had not seen his wife in two months, had to fight not to stare at her. She was clearly younger, and the flaming red hair was a stark contrast to the platinum blond he’d been accustomed to since they’d met, but there was no doubt that this girl would grow up to become the woman he’d marry.

What caught his attention more than her appearance and youth, however, was the noticeable trickle of Energy coming from her, bringing with it a notable flute-like sound of incredible purity. It had been his understanding that the Aliomenti were still working out the formula to unleash their Energy abilities. Elizabeth, however, already possessed them. Arthur most assuredly did not. Will wondered why that might be the case. Will stifled his look of surprise at his revelation, and a glance in her direction revealed that she’d made a similar determination about him.

Elizabeth’s face, which had only briefly lifted up from the ground to spy on the stranger with the Energy, returned to its standard position, with her eyes aimed squarely at the dirt. “Here, Father,” she said. Her voice was quiet and timid, a far cry from the strong woman he’d known and loved in the future. Of course, Will had the ability to sense her true emotions, and those emotions were powerful. She hated Arthur, but did not, despite her timid behavior, fear him. Rather, she was putting on an act, feigning timidity to hide her strength, waiting to reveal her strength at the appropriate time. Though Will refused to reach inside her mind, the intensity of her thoughts and emotions was such that he could not avoid them, even if he’d tried.

She wanted her father to love her. No more, no less. And it didn’t appear that she believed she’d see her dream come true any time soon.

“Girl, where have you been?” Arthur snapped. “Have you been playing with that hideous hair of yours again? Stop wasting your time; no man will ever love you and those devil-spawned locks of yours. Serve our guest his meal, and then leave us.”

Will, startled at Arthur’s angry outburst, glared at the man. “Sir, this girl is your daughter, and she’ll certainly never hope to earn a man’s love if she believes herself unworthy of it. She is a lovely young lady and I’m certain one day she’ll make a fine wife.” As he said the words, Will realized he was expressing a sentiment based on twenty-first century sensibilities, a sentiment likely to get him in trouble here. He was also contradicting a man not accustomed to being challenged.

He sensed Elizabeth’s genuine thanks, though she kept her head down as she approached him. She placed the bread on the table, set the cup down next to the loaf, and poured water from the pitcher. “At your service, sir,” she said, in the same timid voice she’d used earlier.

Arthur was still staring at Will, dumbstruck at the comment directed his way. He seemed prepared to hurl Will bodily out of his home due to his guest’s rudeness, but reconsidered, looking at the tall man with the black hair with a deeper discernment. Will detected no type of Energy scans, but was left with a sense that Arthur was a man who could read — and therefore manipulate — people in his own manner.

“Perhaps you have a point,” Arthur conceded. “Elizabeth, you may leave us.”

As the girl turned to leave, Will spoke up. “I’d hoped we could share this bread together, before she leaves, sir. A full loaf of bread would be too much just for me, and as such I’d like to share it with the people who have made my meal possible.”

Elizabeth paused, waiting for Arthur to speak. Arthur looked at her, then at Will, and reconsidered before responding. “She may have a piece of bread, but she must leave,” he decided. “We have matters to discuss, matters which do not concern her.”