Will Power

by A. J. Hartley

  “I’m sorry, sir,” said the boy. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Cresdon was conquered by an army from the north? No chance! We might be a bit far afield, but we would have heard. When did that happen?”

  “Almost twenty years ago!” I exclaimed.

  “Oh,” said the boy, as if he was finally understanding a joke we had been making at his expense. “All right. I get it. Stavis is a long way from anywhere and we don’t know what’s going on in the world. A big army could take over the whole area and we wouldn’t notice because we’re too busy counting our money. Very funny. You know, if you’re going to be here long, I’d get that kind of humor out of your system quickly. People won’t like it. So, you need your horses stabled or what?”

  “Yes,” said the ambassador, stepping forward. “Perhaps you could fetch the innkeeper. We may need rooms for the night.”

  The boy, looking surly, returned to the inn and I got a brief glimpse inside: a few patrons at tables eating and drinking. No crowds. No soldiers. No Empire presence of any kind.

  “What the Hell is this?” I said.

  Orgos, Mithos, and Lisha emerged from the shadows behind the carriage.

  “The boy is deluded,” said Garnet. “Or dim.”

  He said it loudly, throwing out his chest as if defying the world to contradict him, but there was something in his eyes, a flicker of uncertainty. Even he knew there was more to it than that.

  “Open the street door,” said Lisha.

  “Lisha,” Renthrette cautioned, “if there are Empire troops on the road outside . . .”

  “Will,” Lisha said. “Open the door. Carefully.”

  I wanted to ask why it had to be me, but I also wanted to know. I walked across the inn yard, lifted the bar across the door and cracked it open. It was dark out, but I could see all the way down the road. There were shops and houses, and taverns, mainly closed for the day, and a few people wending their way home to bed. There were no soldiers. I opened the door wider and realized that something was missing.

  “There’s no tower,” I whispered into the night.

  “What?” said Garnet, striding up behind me.

  “There was a stone watchtower just down there,” I said, pointing. “It was a small fortress for the Stavis garrison. The Empire must have built it when they took the city. It’s not there anymore.”

  “Maybe they pulled it down,” said Garnet.

  “No,” I said. The beginnings of the truth had started to register. “They never built it. Did they?”

  That last was aimed at the ambassador, who was watching us, smiling in his cryptic and unnerving way.

  “That’s right,” he said simply.

  “That’s not possible,” said Garnet. “It was there. I saw it. How can they have never built it?”

  “Because the Empire isn’t here,” I said. “The Empire doesn’t exist.”

  “What?” sputtered Garnet. “What are you talking about?”

  “Where did we just come from?” I asked the ambassador.

  “From the city which was once called Phasdreille,” said the ambassador.

  “And when did we come from?” I asked.

  Garnet started to protest but Lisha silenced him with a gesture.

  The ambassador stood there saying nothing for a long moment and his eyes moved over us as if he was deliberating how much to say. When he finally spoke, it was in a low, even voice like someone delivering the epilogue to a play.

  “You came from four hundred years in the past. You came from Phasdreille in the mountains of Aeloria, from a place where, once upon a time, a mighty Empire was born. The Arak Drül were conquerors who assimilated other cultures into their own through a combination of military might and sorcery. They drove out other peoples before them, though in time they became simply a war machine, funded by the natural resources they had taken from others, funded, in particular, by their control of the mining and trade of diamonds.”

  “Diamonds,” I said, thinking of the courtiers and the fashionable jewelers’ shops I had seen in Phasdreille. “Of course.”

  “We went into the past,” said Orgos. It wasn’t a question. It was an answer that made sense to him.

  “Yes,” said the ambassador.

  “Oh my God,” said Renthrette. “The fair folk became the Empire?”

  “In one version of reality, yes,” said the ambassador. “But here, where we are now, history tells a different story. Instead of building from Phasdreille, pushing south from the mountains and conquering all of Thrusia, including both Cresdon and Stavis, the fledgling Empire was never able to stretch its wings. Its control of Phasdreille was lost in a great battle with a race who had once lived there, a battle in which a small group of Outsiders were instrumental, and with that, the Empire’s military ambitions collapsed.”

  There was a long and loaded silence.

  “Wait,” I said. “We defeated the Empire—the whole Empire—without even knowing we were fighting them?”

  The ambassador’s lips twitched in that smile of his and he said, “In a manner of speaking.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Garnet. “We were in the past . . . and what we did there changed the present?”

  “Made a different present, yes,” said the ambassador.

  “So we’re not wanted men,” I said. “And women. I mean, we’re not outlaws! We won, and we’re not on anyone’s hit list! This is fantastic! It means . . . I don’t know. Lots of things. It probably means . . . Wait: Are there theaters here now?”

  “There are theaters here, yes,” said the ambassador.

  “So I could go back to being an actor and playwright!” I said, laughing with joy at the idea.

  “You could,” said the ambassador. “If you wish.”

  “Oh believe me,” I said. “I wish.”

  I turned to the others. Orgos had settled into a kind of crouch, as if his head was swimming. He was smiling softly, but he still looked dazed and unsure of himself, and he was breathing hard. Mithos and Lisha were looking at each other, their eyes wide but their faces blank. Garnet was still demanding explanations and Renthrette was trying to soothe him, but none of them were exactly celebrating the downfall of their old enemy.

  “What is the matter with you people?” I demanded. “The Empire is gone! We defeated them! It’s a new world. It’s . . . I don’t know, better! Definitely better.”

  “I just can’t imagine it,” said Orgos softly. “No Empire? What am I without the Empire? What do I do?”

  “You get joyously, raging drunk and then help me prepare for an audition,” I suggested, but he wasn’t listening, just sat there, gazing at his hands.

  “Other things will define you,” said the ambassador. “There will be other battles to fight, other principles to champion.”

  Before he had a chance to respond, the inn door opened again, and the boy returned with a burly man in an apron. He had a pink face and arms like tree trunks.

  “Ned here says you’ll be wanting rooms,” he said, as he strode over. “I’m the innkeeper, Wigrun Bartels. He said he only saw four of you, though it looks like you’ll be needing . . .”

  His voice trailed off. He had been looking at me because I was closest, but his welcome was a general one, and it was as he looked over the rest of the group that his words stalled. He was staring at Lisha. Then at Orgos.

  For a moment I thought we had made a terrible mistake. The Empire could not simply vanish. All this talk of moving through time and changing the future was the kind of nonsense you wouldn’t even put on stage. There were soldiers everywhere and they were looking for us. The innkeeper had been told to watch for a group with a black man and a small woman from the Far East. . . .

  But that wasn’t it. The innkeeper just stared with his mouth open, and then took a nervous step backward. He was afraid. Then he turned to the boy.

  “Run,” he said. “To the Fraternity. Tell them.”

  The boy, whose eyes were as wide as his master’s,
sprinted through the door like all the devils of Hell were after him.

  “Wait,” I said. “There has been some misunderstanding.”

  “Stay back,” said the innkeeper, pulling a carving knife from his belt.

  “Look,” I went on, “I don’t know what the problem is but I’m sure we can sort it out. We’re not from round here. . . .”

  The innkeeper laughed once, a caustic bark that fought through his fear. I ignored it.

  “I’m sure we can explain things,” I said. “This Fraternity: These are your leaders, your law enforcers?”

  “They keep the bad people out,” said the innkeeper. The echo of the boy’s line unsettled me. “Bad people,” he went on, nodding at Orgos and Lisha. “People like them. You can explain things? How will you explain to the Fraternity that you have brought goblins to our city? You think they will understand? You think the ancient Fraternity of the Pale Claw will welcome them to Stavis? They know them of old.”

  Well, put that way . . .

  “Right,” I said. “Fair enough. Well, thanks again, ambassador. Other battles to fight and principles to champion. Yes. Thanks. Always a pleasure. Now, to the rest of you,” I said, turning to Orgos, Lisha, Renthrette, Garnet, and Mithos, “I’m going to suggest running. Fast. Who’s with me?”

  And we ran.

  THE END