by Frank Morin
~Julius Caesar
“Whoa! Where are we?”
Sarah stood atop a low hill near the base of a steep mountain under a blazing hot sun. She faced a road of packed brown earth that was barely fifty feet wide. On the road, almost within spitting distance, two armies battled in archaic armor, large round shields, and long spears. The much smaller army on her right blocked a narrow pass with a tightly-packed formation of just a few hundred men.
The other army was having a bad day.
Although it filled the road to her left as far as Sarah could see, and had to outnumber the small force many times over, the huge army had succeeded in nothing more than dying by the hundreds. Huge piles of dead soldiers cluttered the battlefield, blood soaked the ground right up to where she stood, and the air smelled like vomit and urine.
The narrow battlefield was hemmed in by the hill upon which Sarah stood on one side, and a long drop on the opposite side. The ground fell away to an ocean that extended to the horizon and crashed into rocks below with a regular booming of heavy surf. The clanging of spears on shields echoed painfully off the steep hills. Occasional loud screams rose above the clamor.
One soldier in orange robes and sporting a thick black beard collapsed right at her feet. The front of his clothing was ripped open, revealing a ghastly wound in his chest. He bled out and died before she could react or try to help.
The entire scene felt surreal, and yet strangely familiar. A soldier she hadn’t noticed before, who stood close beside her, kicked the body. The dead man rolled several times before coming to a stop against another corpse.
Sarah retreated a step, falling into a defensive stance. It took a couple of seconds to recognize John. He looked so different in that strong young body with bare, muscular arms. He wore a bronze breastplate, greaves on his legs, and a crimson cloak. He held a long spear and carried a heavy round shield with a Greek-looking symbol on it. He looked just like the brutal soldiers in the smaller, but deadlier army.
He also looked terrified.
The sight of him locked the location into place for her. “Oh, no,” she gasped. “You’re kidding.”
John scanned the battlefield before turning to her. “We should not be here.”
“You think? Why’d you bring us to Thermopylae?” Sarah had seen the movie, and despite the poetic license the producers had taken, she recognized it.
“I didn’t bring us anywhere,” John snapped.
“This was like twenty five centuries ago,” Sarah exclaimed. She’d never walked a memory so old.
“I know,” he snapped. “Gregorios told me all about it.”
“Wait, this isn’t your memory?” Where was Gregorios anyway?
“No. Like I said, we shouldn’t be here.” His expression turned suspicious. “What have you done, woman?”
“Nothing. I’m not a facetaker.”
“You’re tampering with my memories aren’t you?”
Sarah gave him a disgusted look. “You just said you don’t have this memory.”
“Exactly!”
He brandished his spear. “Send me back, woman, or I will defend myself.”
Sarah retreated. “Why would I want to bring us here?”
The fighting abruptly stopped.
Silence descended over the battlefield like an invisible tidal wave. Everyone just stopped, some with weapons in mid-thrust, others in mid-scream.
It was as if someone had paused a movie.
“We have to get out of here,” Sarah said, her voice sounding loud in the silence.
John was no longer listening. He was staring toward the larger army with an expression of disbelief on his face. Sarah turned to follow his gaze and her eye was drawn to a single moving figure. A man was approaching them with an unhurried stride, as if strolling through a park instead of a freakishly frozen battlefield. He was about a hundred yards away and instead of a helmet, he wore a wide-brimmed hat.
Icy fear kicked Sarah in the gut. She should have told Gregorios about the hat man before they entered this memory. She knew without a shred of doubt that she didn’t want to wait for introductions with the mysterious fellow.
A new sound pierced the silence. A roar so deep it shook the ground as it boiled up out of the nearby sea. A moment later a huge, scaled head on a long, sinuous neck rose above the road. It opened a mouth big enough to swallow a horse and roared again. The blast of its breath staggered Sarah back even though she stood over fifty feet away.
Soldiers from both armies that stood closest to the edge began moving again and turned to face the gigantic sea serpent. It lunged with terrifying speed and snatched a man off the ground, ignoring dozens of arrows that bounced off its thick hide.
The bigger the break with a memory, the bigger the monster that resulted. Sarah was glad no one in earlier memory excursions had ever tried tampering with time. That gigantic beast looked like it could eat the entire army.
She glanced back at the man in the wide-brimmed hat to see if he looked as scared as he should be, but his face was still hidden. Another man had joined him. The newcomer was dressed in fancier armor. He looked like a lord or captain. His head was bare, showing a strong jaw, a rather large nose, and thick, black hair. He was clean shaven and he looked angry.
“Baladeva!” John hissed.
“Who’s he?”
John grabbed Sarah by the collar. “Why did you bring me here?”
She punched him in the nose.
He groaned and clutched his face. She slipped out of his grasp and ran for the frozen battle lines. It was a little closer to the raging sea serpent, but she couldn’t scale the steep mountainside, and she didn’t want to draw any closer to the hat man.
“Get back here!”
She glanced back just as John seized a javelin from a fallen soldier and threw it at her. She easily dodged, but that made up her mind. Something was incredibly wrong and she didn’t have to wait around and babysit John until things got even worse.
The man John had called Baladeva had closed to within fifty yards, with the hat man at his side.
She still didn’t see Gregorios or Tomas, so she summoned a black marker and drew the waking rune on her stomach. Heat flared through her torso and she gasped.
Her vision went black, then she awakened in the vault.
Eirene’s voice came through the helmet. “Sarah dear, what happened?”
“Get me out of this thing!” she shrieked. “We have a problem.”
Chapter Ten
The city and the buildings are mine; but I resign to your valor the captives and the spoil, the treasures of gold and beauty. Your bravery is unmatched, your enhancements without equal. Be rich and be happy.
~Mehmed II in a speech to his Janissary Corps during the siege of Constantinople, 1453
“You must be mistaken,” Alter said when Sarah finished explaining about the bizarre nightmare she and John had fallen into. “You can’t travel back to a time that’s not linked to the primary helmet by memory.”
Sarah glared. “I know what I saw, Alter.”
“I know you think you do. But I don’t see how it’s possible.”
“So it’s easier to think I’m an idiot or a liar rather than admit there might be something you hadn’t anticipated?”
He paced away, head down in thought. “I’m not sure what to make of this.”
“I suggest you make something up,” Bastien called from his position at John’s head, glowing hands thrust into slots on either side of the helmet. “The situation is now dangerous.”
A long gash had appeared on John’s neck, and blood dripped in a steady stream down his arm.
Eirene punched a button on a nearby intercom. “We need a trauma response team in the vault. Double time!”
Sarah grabbed a rag lying on the floor next to the ugly machine and used it to apply pressure. “He should have activated his escape rune by now.”
“Unless someone is wishing he stay, yes?” Bastien said.
“I’ve got bandages.” Al
ter lugged over a heavy, bright red plastic case emblazoned with a white cross. He dropped it on the floor next to John’s chair and flung open the lid.
Sarah snatched a thick wad of sterile gauze bandages to replace the bloody, dirty one she’d been using.
Eirene joined them just as Bastien groaned and sagged against the chair. Francesca, who had been standing beside him, one hand resting on his shoulder, turned pale and swayed where she stood.
“The drain is spiking,” Bastien panted. “I think perhaps he is having a bad time.”
“Get him out of there,” Sarah cried.
“It must be controlled by the dreamer, no?” Bastien said.
“But Gregorios called you to take him out when we went in last time,” Sarah protested.
“That was his choice. The act of calling for exit releases his hold on the memory so I can extract him. John has not done that.”
Francesca whispered, “If we don’t do something fast, we’ll lose him.”
“Help them, Alter,” Eirene said, pushing the young hunter toward her children.
“Me? I’m not a facetaker.”
“Just share the strength of your young soul with them,” Eirene said. “I need to coordinate our response.”
Looking like he wanted to argue, Alter stepped to Francesca’s side and placed his left hand on her shoulder. With the other hand he used a marker to inscribe a rune onto his hand that flowed down to her shoulder. She immediately straightened, and some of her color returned.
“You are strong for a mortal,” Francesca said, giving Alter an appraising look. “What else can you do?”
“The three of us should be able to hold it long enough,” Alter said, pointedly looking away from Francesca.
“Thank you,” Eirene said.
Sarah wasn’t sure why she had positioned Alter with the facetakers, but she was glad they seemed able to handle the load. He’d helped Eirene preserve the memory during their battle with Mai Luan. Without that assistance, they might have all died.
A new cut scraped down John’s thigh. Eirene pressed a fresh bandage to it.
“He might not last much longer. He was wearing armor and these wounds are in places that were not protected, but those guys looked scary.”
“Dad’s back with Tomas,” Harriett said, releasing her hold on the other machine and moving to help them with the helmets.
“You said it was Baladeva?” Eirene asked.
“Who said Baladeva?” Gregorios asked, sitting up and tugging at his helmet.
As soon as he was free of the machine, Tomas jumped out of the chair and came to Sarah. “What happened? Why didn’t you show up?”
“And what about Baladeva?” Gregorios repeated.
Sarah gave them a brief summary of what happened. While she spoke, the medical team rushed in and took her place at John’s side.
“Thermopylae was not John’s memory.” Gregorios said with a frown.
“You have to tell me about that one,” Tomas said eagerly.
“Later.”
“Will someone please tell me who Baladeva is?” Sarah asked, trying to hide how freaked out she was. The horrific sight of new injuries appearing across John’s body didn’t help.
“He’s dead,” Eirene said. “So he shouldn’t be a player at all.”
“It’s the man in the wide-brimmed hat,” Sarah said. “I saw him in Florence and now again.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Gregorios asked.
“I was going to, but John arrived and I didn’t get a chance.”
“For stuff like this, you make time,” Gregorios growled.
In the chair, John’s body shook, and bruises appeared across his face.
“They’re killing him,” Eirene said softly.
“And he’s still not triggering his escape rune,” Alter added.
Gregorios rose. “We have to intervene. I’m going in.”
“No, dear. You are not.” Eirene stood to face him. “Something new and potentially deadly is going on in there. With everything we’re still dealing with from Mai Luan, we can’t afford to lose you now. I’m going.”
They faced each other for several seconds and Sarah found herself holding her breath. Eirene’s argument made sense, but would Gregorios really agree to send her into danger?
“I’ll go with you,” Alter said. “This machine allows two passengers.”
“It’s settled then,” Eirene said. “Loan us your failsafe pendants.”
Sarah had triggered hers, so Tomas loaned his to Alter. Harriett took his place supporting her siblings at the head of the machine.
Gregorios pulled the wooden pendant over his neck and gave it to Eirene, along with a kiss. Instead of pulling away, Gregorios caressed Eirene’s face and his hands began to glow with his activated nevron. His hands burned with purple fire, and he pressed his fingers against her skin.
For a second, Sarah feared he was trying to disable her so he could take her place, but the fires of his hands sank into her skin and the glow of his eyes slowly faded. After several seconds, he released her and swayed, looking exhausted.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Eirene said, her eyes glowing bright with her nevron.
“Take the strength,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You may need it.”
Gregorios staggered and sat on the ground, holding his head in his hands.
“What did you do?” Sarah asked.
“He loaned me the strength of his soul,” Eirene said. She stood taller, her voice strong, her eyes glittering with unusual brightness.
“They’re the only facetakers we’ve ever heard of who can do that,” Francesca said. “I think it’s because the lovesick duo really aren’t much more than one combined soul that happens to live in two bodies.”
Eirene kissed her daughter. “You’re a sucker for a good love story. Now let’s deal with John.”
Sarah helped secure the helmets. Before pressing the jagged faceplate over Alter she said, “Be careful in there.”
As soon as she closed the lid, she felt tingling under her fingers as the machine activated the helmet.
They were in.
Chapter Eleven
Now it came to pass, in the year of Christ’s Incarnation, 1252, that Alaue, Lord of the Tartars of the Levant, heard tell of the great crimes of the Old Man and his enhanced Assassins, and resolved to make an end of him. Nevertheless, the army of his Baron besieged their castle for three years, and could have remained thus affixed for decades more had the hunters not sent mighty warriors endowed with the very strength of God to smite down the gates. As sworn in our accord, I will however claim the defeat of the dread Assassins came only by the grace of God that they ran out of victuals and thus surrendered.
~ Marco Polo, secret correspondence to Gregorios, 1297
Eirene appeared on the battlefield of Thermopylae dressed for war.
She didn’t know what to expect, so she had clothed herself in a full suit of German plate armor from the sixteenth century. Given that everyone else was wielding weapons from pre-Roman days, the armor made her all but invincible.
As long as she didn’t venture too close to that gigantic sea monster.
She blinked, but the sight didn’t change. The beast was so big she wondered if it might really be Charybdis. Bits and pieces of fallen soldiers littered the area around the monster, but it hadn’t gone unscathed. Several spears jutted from its armored neck, and one eye was bleeding.
Alter appeared beside her in modern body armor, with a tactical vest bristling with weapons and explosives.
“Don’t you think that’s a little over-done, dear?” She loved his intensity, but there was a certain question of style he hadn’t grasped yet.
He shrugged. “They’re playing for keeps. Let’s do this.”
Then he spotted the monster and gaped. “What is that?”
“Stay clear and we should be long gone before it eats through all those soldiers.”
Eirene scanned the battlefield.
Almost no one moved other than the sea monster and the troops fighting it. Besides the thunderous trumpets of the monster and the screaming of men getting eaten, silence reigned. The blood and gore that soaked the land underfoot seemed unreal, and even the smells seemed forced.
Someone was tampering at a level so extreme she had never considered trying it. It broke the memory at a fundamental level. She suspected that if the strange stasis continued, more monsters would rise to challenge the mind that controlled the memoryscape. They needed to be gone before that happened.
Not far away, near the immobile front lines of the two clashing armies, John was getting thrashed. Eirene had not seen Baladeva in more centuries than she cared to recall, but she recognized him. John might have assassinated him in real life, but in the memory world, Baladeva held the advantage.
He picked up the bloody, desperate John and threw him into a line of unmoving soldiers. John bounced off a shield and tumbled into an upraised spear. The shaft drove into his left shoulder and he howled.
Eirene winced with him. She knew exactly how much that hurt.
Baladeva advanced on him as he struggled to break the shaft of the spear that held him suspended off the ground. Only when Baladeva moved did Eirene catch sight of the man in the wide-brimmed hat. He stood not far behind Baladeva, face concealed.
“That’s the one we want,” she pointed.
“On it.”
Alter pumped the grenade launcher mounted under his assault rifle and pulled the trigger. With a distinct whump, it launched the projectile across the silent landscape.
It struck between Baladeva and the man in the wide-brimmed hat and exploded with a satisfying roar of flame and debris. Whoever was controlling the memory had stopped time for most of the army, but wasn’t ready for grenades. Frozen soldiers tumbled away from the blast along with everything else. Eirene lost sight of the two men in the ensuing dust cloud.
She descended the low hill toward John, who had spotted them and was waving his good hand for help. Alter flanked her on the right, assault rifle up as he scanned for targets.
A small doglike creature began clawing out of the ground at their feet but Alter shot it in the head without slowing. The smoke cleared but Eirene saw no trace of Baladeva or the man in the wide-brimmed hat.
