Io Deceneus: Journal of a Time Traveler (The Living Universe)

by Florian Armas

  We buried Brasus on the opposite edge of the forest under a huge oak, his small Baragan body would move into the large trunk; we owed him at least this end. The hot summer forced us to do it, the summer and the five days of riding to Dava. Rest in peace Brasus; I owe you my life and I have no way to repay the debt. My hand touched the old scar on my right shoulder, another life bond from another existence. Poor Brasus. What about us? Poor us too? We are alive. For how long?

  “Why was Sumael alone?” I finally said something to break the silence. It was evening again. We had exchanged no words the whole day.

  “Why was he alone? Why was he behind us? Why did he not alert Scharon? I have many whys and no answers. We may find them in Dava.”

  “Hate and confidence.”

  “What about them?”

  “The answer to your last question: two old men and one stranger, easy prey for a bow. He lost his place in the council because of us, his version of the story. He wanted ‘justice’. You should have seen his face when the 168 year-old moved faster than he ever could.”

  We met the patrol on the last morning, half a mile away from the city gate, young cadets sent out for training; Cotiso was leading them. “The King is waiting for you,” he whispered only for us. I know … he is waiting for Brasus too. “Some strange things happened on the day you left Dava,” he continued.

  “What things?”

  “I don’t know. Maug told me to alert you.” Sumael? I glanced at Batranu, he nodded, somehow guessing my thoughts. Who else could it be? A horseman came out from the city. “I bet he is looking for us. Thank you, Cotiso.” He saluted and left us alone to meet the messenger.

  “The King is waiting for you.” Scorylo stopped in front of us. “Slow your horses. We have to talk.” Our faces told him something. “You already know it.” You are not a journalist for nothing; I cursed him and cursed our mood too. We have to cool down before meeting the King. “Sumael went after you that day.”

  “Sumael is dead.”

  A shadow of a smile played on his lips. “I hoped so.” News of Sumael’s death told him something. “Where is Brasus?”

  “In the forest under an old oak. Sumael’s work, before Batranu chopped his head off.” His eyes thinned. Yeah, I know it’s bad. “I hope the King will believe our story.”

  “He is aware of Sumael hunting you.”

  “One man hunting us. Who would believe this?”

  “Six men hunting you.” What the hell do you mean by six men? “Five of them were killed by a small troop sent out from Sudava. You were lucky,” he smiled. “Scharon’s company’s road was known, you had to follow, and the followers were followed.” How was Ardava involved in this, I tried to ask? “I almost killed my horse to arrive there before Sumael.” His eyebrows arched high from the pleasure of seeing our faces.

  “I have to remember that quills can be mortal. Thank you.”

  *

  “The ban on attending the Council meetings is lifted,” Altamira said in a soft voice. We were in the castle garden again, not so often as in the beginning, but you cannot have all you want from life. “You are invited to the next meeting tomorrow morning.” I had never mixed the pleasure of walking in the garden with politics until now. I always had the impression that it was a waste to talk political nonsense with nice young ladies when there were so many other subjects to talk about. “Are you in touch with other Travelers?”

  “Is this your question or is it from the Queen?” I tried to evade a direct answer.

  “It belongs to both of us and to others. Think of the King, for example.” The undecided king...

  “We met the grays in the past, but we are not in contact with any of them. I hate them. I avoid them … if I can. I think you understood why ... in that valley.” I often switched the names between Travelers, Black Travelers and grays when talking about Factions’ people with them. A pejorative name is often stronger than a logical argument. The fact is even truer when conditioning is involved. You cannot fight ‘believing’ with logic. You have to whip the ‘believers’ with irony. I wanted them to despise those bloody Travelers.

  “Did they try to hypnotize you?”

  “If they did, I would never know. I would enter into their machinations with my thoughts and go out with theirs filling my mind, without a trace of what was done. Airan has no memory of what happened there. He is...” The sadness in her expression cut my words. Unveiled pain pressed her eyelids against tears; she turned her head to hide. You idiot, Airan is her brother. I tried to adjust the tone of my voice to repair something. “I am sorry for this but I will not take back my words. You have to adapt to the new reality. I know it’s hard.” My voice was bland, no intonation, no feelings. What am I turning into? We walked in silence for a while before she was able to speak again.

  “So, you will never know if the tale you present to us is yours or is induced by Travelers?”

  “I don't have any contact device.” Thank you, Houston, at least I will not lie to them ... this time. “So the chance of being hijacked by the grays is slim even when this might have happened for unknown reasons in my past journeys. The last encounter was just before joining you. If they pushed us toward the canyon...” I tried to create an impression of a benevolent action to avoid more questions.

  “They can erase memory. You told me this,” she added defensively.

  “It might be. Look for the end; we/they oppose the actual intrigues. At least, in theory, that should make us the white riders. But this is speculation, I am only a wandering traveler,” I carefully avoided inserting ‘local’ before the traveler word, “with no political clout. Why should I present any interest to the grays? If you look around, only the Council members have bracelets as contact devices.”

  “Maybe it is time for you to receive one,” she smiled. I understood the meaning of her words but I played a little.

  “What would that mean?”

  “The Council is no longer in equilibrium. The war camp, let us call them the hawks, is in the majority, four against two, with myself and the Queen opposed to them.”

  “What about the King?” I reluctantly asked.

  “Even if he is against the war he will not openly take our side; any vote on this will be lost. He cannot politically afford a defeat on a vote – it would put him in an awkward position – so he will be neutral and play a 'postpone as much as I can' game. Your membership will redress the balance. At four against four, the King's vote will be decisive. But I am sure that you already know all this,” a delicate hint of: no more games Mr. Traveler.

  “How would the war camp accept my nomination?” I was not yet sure about all their calculations.

  “We had hoped Airan would follow us, as he sees in you, as strange as it seems, a significant player in winning over the Munti, but it is clear for now that he will accept your appointment only after the war begins.” I heard the pain in her voice, and closed my eyes for a second.

  “Not very much of Airan in this,” I thought aloud, only to regret it when I saw her frown. “I am sorry, but you should accept realities as they are. Airan is the child-like elder brother. That statement is not his. It smells of Garon at a distance; he is skillfully neutralizing the only independent thoughts Airan has had on this matter.”

  “We will have to play the Assembly against the Council,” she changed the subject. “Things are changing fast; public opinion is shifting toward a military response to the killings.”

  *

  The second of the biannual meetings of the Great Assembly of the Baragan Kingdom started in early September, under the threat of war. We were afraid the hawks would push a vote to declare war, as they were working hard on public opinion, but it did not happen.

  Altamira brought us an invitation from the Queen two days before the first congregation of the Assembly. She had a tendency to hold important meetings at dusk and I still do not know if it was for her own pleasure – the panorama from her terrace was always striking with the far-off sunset tou
ching the lake waters with fire – or an instinctive feeling that beauty would tame, even if only to a slight degree, aggressive politicians.

  The unknown entity in the discussion was Arun, the vice-president of the Assembly. By a stroke of chance, the King was the elected president. Arun was a bear-like man, dominating everybody with his muscular presence and vivacity, a man of volcanic temper, looking exactly the opposite of the shrewd politician he actually was.

  As in every political system where several organizations perform similar duties, sometimes a fierce competition develops between them which is, in fact, the rivalry between human personalities, especially those at the top, and for a good reason: they are usually the owners of the biggest egos in town. Arun did not waste our time: “You are the best soldier we have, if I take into account all that rumors say, and still you ask for asylum in the chicken party.” Such a good helping of self-deprecating humor is a good omen...

  “A lot of hawks are hawks only when war is a distant thing, with them never directly involved. It is always safe to talk about wars and be a warmonger with other people’s lives, while in the bedroom. Fighting wars is different.”

  “So, you are a good-hearted warrior, not like the others. You don't want to gain eternal glory by winning our war against the Munti.” How to handle this huge hot potato?

  “Will you fight in that war?” I twisted his question back at him.

  “Hah, good question. This brings us back to square one. Garon needs a war to consolidate his political power after losing his main ally in the Council.”

  “Then it's about power.”

  “Everything is about power, young man; unfortunately there is not enough thinking about what to do with that power. War is the perfect tool to gain power, if you win. Garon wants power, the King wants power, I want power, even that miserable Sarul dreams of power, his precious financial power with the banks controlling everything. I would not be surprised if he outfoxes all of us. The power of money is insidious and invisible; it entangles you before you can receive a wake-up call. Don't tell me you go to the Council only because of its fancy name.” He finally stopped to breathe. I opened my mouth to answer, but too late; his massive lungs did not waste time. “It would be an easier game to enter on the side of the war camp as they have the majority. What did you call them? Bedroom warriors? If it is a war, you have to fight, you are the leader. Does this frighten you?” I had to recognize that behind that torrent of words there was an intricate mind. Good tactic, never let your opponent think, flood him with words, push him in unexpected ways. How to stop your big mouth?

  “Arun, have you ever fought? I am not talking about politics.” I finally found a weak point in his torrent of words.

  “No, maybe you are right and I am the bedroom soldier.”

  “Arun is aware of the valley trap,” the Queen interrupted us, tired of our verbal exchange. Yes! She is now convinced about that. “I think he has some questions for you about what happened there.”

  “How did you escape, if they have such power?” The question took shape even before the Queen finished her sentence.

  ”We were far away and we are not as prone to mental submission as you are. We cannot read mental patterns. Having the same mental structure as yours would have trapped us too.”

  “What if you had done the same to Altamira?”

  “Wouldn't it have been much simpler to let her be ensnared by the gray?” Then a strange thought came to me. The Queen had only mentioned that the Council members had contact devices. She had never said anything about the Assembly. “Do you have a contact device?”

  “Did you see me there in the valley?”

  “That is not an answer; it could be that you were and we did not count you as you were a stranger to us at that time.” Of course, I guessed he had not been contacted, otherwise he would not have been there with the ‘chickens’, and I still had to exclude the chance of a double game, as improbable as it looked, but mostly it was to cut the impetus driving his peculiar way of conversation.

  “No, I wasn't, otherwise I would not be here discussing how to stop the war.” He served me exactly what I was expecting.

  “It might be so. Why are you opposing the war? Your people were killed. Why don't you want to punish the perpetrators?” A short silence fell, but even a short one was not very much like Arun.

  “Because we would lose any war against the Munti.”

  “Garon is a respected statesman and experienced warrior and he still thinks that we can win, and of course being a Munti by origin he should be better placed to evaluate our chances.”

  “Look, I don't give too much for your tales about the hypnotic black-hatted Travelers and dark valleys, but I know one thing: this war will bring only misery and destruction and we will not win it. So, it happens that we may disagree on the premises but we fully agree on the outcome, and that is the art of politics, making people meet where they have a common interest. If you insist, I could give you a dissertation about how noble it is to avert a war. Would this make you happier? In the end we are talking about your promotion, not mine, with only one string attached: keep this bloody war away from us.”

  “Black hats … I like that name.”

  It was again necessary for the Queen to take the next step. “The King is dragging his feet for now, trying to postpone a decision as long as he can. Garon is tacitly accepting the postponement until the Assembly goes into recess, as he does not control it, but afterwards that will be his main agenda. At the same time, he is stirring up the public by spreading stories of the horrors committed by the Munti against our people. Those two papers … I hate them.” It was the time… Who took over The Sun? Later. “Even in the Council, there is stalemate for the moment. The key to your appointment is Airan’s ambivalence. He is utterly for war, but also sees in you the best Marshal to win this war. For the moment, this is the only difference of opinion between him and Garon. Garon wants to promote Scharon for the position, with you seconding him, as even he considers Scharon not yet ripe for the job. Next January, Scharon will be twenty-one and eligible for the Marshal’s position, so until then the Gordian knot has to stay tied. You have now had my honest assessment of the Council and know that I consider you to be the best solution.”

  There was so much force in her words that I had to ponder an answer, when Arun interrupted again in his abrupt manner and asked me: “Are you willing to fill the position and join the anti-war party?” I allowed a moment of silence for suspense, to add more weight to my answer.

  “Thank you for this open discussion. We have never talked so much about politics, even though we have had many discussions.” I stopped for my words to take effect. “Concerning the war, I can say for certain that I am against any war, but I am with no party at the moment.” Arun was disconcerted; probably he had taken for granted my desire to be the future Marshal, a correct assumption. The incorrect assumption was that I would immediately throw my lot in with the so-called anti-war party. Politics is much dirtier on Earth than they could ever imagine. We have to negotiate some things first. I glanced at Altamira; she avoided my eyes.

  *

  The King opened the autumn meeting of the Assembly with a short discourse about the bad times the country was experiencing, a calm and balanced message, well calculated to stop the inevitable ferment of politicians always ready to exploit anything they could. It was just before of the end of the day when Altamira asked for permission to speak and took the podium.

  “You know him as Deceneus; his name brings us hope from a better past. Through his courage, he saved me, Airan and other people from certain death under the volcano. He is the only one of us to have won a fight against our main enemy, Duras, and he is our best trainer and chief of our Military School. We need people like him now. I hope that you all will agree with me that he is the best person to fill the Second Marshal’s position.” I glanced around; the King ignored me, and Garon ... Garon was furious, almost black with fury, but he still had the presence
of spirit to keep a smile on his face. To kill with a smile ... you want to kill me ... not you, but the black mind behind you. The motion would have to be supported by two other Assembly Council members. All the people there suddenly began to chatter; Arun banged his gavel for silence and shouted: “Is the proposal sustained?” The Queen and Arun himself raised their hands, after which the vote was a simple formality. I was as popular as an actor. Popularity can kill too. Maybe it is too early to be a Marshal. Maybe...

  The next day I entered the Council Hall in my new position, but I did not feel any different. I was neither taller nor more intelligent. The King congratulated me and officially asked me to join the Council. I shared his glance for a moment, trying to read his real feelings about all this. I could not.