“Any name, really.” He glanced back at her. “His father was—is, as of this moment—the leader of their people. They call their leader the First Man. Or, in simpler terms, the Adam. To his people, Adam wasn’t a name; it was a title of nobility. Like most nobility systems, the title was passed down from parent to child. His father’s oldest son would become the leader, or the Adam, at the time of death. His other children would get nothing. My father was the youngest of the Adam’s three sons. That meant he had little chance to become the leader of his people. That wouldn’t have been a terrible thing. For him, though, it wasn’t just that he was a younger child shut out of the preferred title of nobility. He was never given a name at the time of his birth, or at any other time in his life.”
Genevieve frowned. “But why?”
He sighed. “Because he didn’t share the same mother as his older brothers. His father wouldn’t acknowledge him, and since the fathers in their little tribe named their offspring… he was left unnamed. They called him the Nameless One, and it was a matter of great shame to him.”
“It’s almost like…” She swallowed. “Like Elizabeth.”
He nodded. “The similarity wasn’t lost on him. He’d been treated poorly because there was no one there to protect and defend him. When he had the chance to protect Elizabeth, he left. He thought it would work. But nobody joined him. He knew he’d lose any influence he had in your village if he came back. But he still wrestled with it, because he believed he should be there helping her.” He grimaced. “He had a knife pointed at his heart, ready to plunge the blade in and end his life, because his grief was so great.”
Her eyes flashed briefly and he felt the thought—that the man she called Adam deserved such guilt and perhaps even the self-inflicted punishment—before calming herself. “You stopped him from his suicide. Didn’t you?”
He didn’t deny it. “I can… I can change what people think about and remember. I helped him forget so that the guilt lessened, so that he no longer felt suicidal.”
“You made him forget?” She opted to avoid thinking about what this man might make her forget. For now. “What did you make him forget?”
“That Elizabeth is his daughter.” He sighed. “He still cares for her, of course; she’ll be a prime reason he’ll return to the village in about four years. But without that knowledge… he could live during that time without that overwhelming guilt and sense that he’d abandoned her, and that erased the suicidal thoughts. He’s here to face the challenges of this day, which I’ll help him through.”
Her face clouded, then turned stony. She avoided thoughts of what memories he might take from her, and instead focused on the impact he’d already had on Elizabeth’s father. Her eyes bored into him. “You helped him evade his responsibility so he didn’t kill himself?” She shook her head. “I wish you’d let him do it.”
“He’d probably agree with you on that point,” Adam replied. He kept his voice low, but the tremors of emotion were there. “Especially if he’d known then what’s going to happen today.”
~~~36~~~
1017 A.D.
Adam spread his nano swarm out into a wide, flat platform floating vertically above them. He then instructed the nanos inside his father to signal back, letting the platform rotate and orient on the strongest portions. He kept the platform up and rotating, and adjusted his path slightly as the nanos computed the direction toward the signal source… until they indicated the signal had gone behind them. He turned the craft around and moved at a snail’s pace until he’d identified the precise point at which the signal flipped sides and glanced down.
He saw a barn below. He let the invisible platform disassemble and sent it inside the barn, transmitting video back to his communication nanos.
He found his father sleeping across the top of several piles of hay, a blanket for one of the horses stretched across him for warmth.
He shared the picture with Genevieve via a telepathic image projection.
She offered him a sideways glance and looked away. “That doesn’t make me feel any grief or pity for him.” Left unsaid, but not unthought: he deserves to suffer.
Adam shrugged. “It’s been like this since he left. He’s slept most of his days outside so that he doesn’t have to spend any of his money. Most of the time, he only eats what he can forage—berries, some vegetables dug from the ground, the rare piece of fruit—and the occasional small animal he can hunt. He’ll work jobs occasionally, and has used the earnings to buy a handful of knives and a sword. He’s also worked in exchange for lessons in using those weapons, and has developed decent skills. He’s been in the village I described to him on the road to meeting you all those years ago, ironically. Working, saving money, still sleeping outside and eating only what he can find. He learned to fish from the sea, which added to the meat options. Yesterday, he’d finally counted the money in his coin purse and found he had enough to buy a small boat. He hid the boat and slept in this barn.” He smiled. “The animals, curiously, didn’t make any sort of ruckus when he went inside.”
Genevieve’s head snapped in his direction, before turning back toward the barn. The elder Adam slipped quietly out of the barn doors in the pre-dawn hours, sprinting away with a pair of eggs in each hand. They discovered the reason for his haste: a heavily bearded farmer burst out of the barn after him, shouting, shaking a fist. It was only then, when the farmer started shouting, that the barn animals began their own noisy symphony.
Genevieve offered him a curious look. “How did he do that? I’ve worked with animals for quite some time and they’re normally quite noisy around the newer villagers.”
He shrugged. “It’s a skill he’s learned over the past decade. He’s learned to enter barns slowly, with confidence, which means he exudes a type of scent the animals can detect and trust. He’ll generally bring in food and offer it to them, ensuring that they see him as they do with those who work with them daily. He did the same thing here. He usually wakes up early enough to sneak out before he’s discovered, but not always.” He paused. “If he hadn’t left so soon, there would be another possibility. The Energy you and Elizabeth have built would have impacted him, giving him a more than trace amount. Over time, he’d be slightly more intuitive, slightly more adept at calming animals and other humans. The longer that interaction with a true Energy user occurs, the greater and faster the development. It’s slower than even zirple, though. You’d have to spend immense amounts of time with an Energy user of tremendous power to do much more than that.”
They’d learned about Energy Osmosis through Will; the man had talked of hearing a flute-like sound around Hope in the last year or so before the fire, though he’d never touched even a trace of morange or zirple. He’d also developed Energy at a much higher rate than they’d ever seen, even before he’d started his symbiotic sharing of Energy with the trees around them. They’d finally realized that his proximity to Hope—sleeping in the same bed with, with her Shield down, unintentionally bathing him in the power she’d developed over the centuries—must have triggered his development. There were plenty of terrifying implications of that knowledge… including the possibility that it was this Energy Osmosis that gave rise to the Hunters, who’d all displayed their unique abilities before undergoing the Purge.
Genevieve recognized another frightening prospect. “You’re saying that Arthur…?” Below them, the elder Adam realized the chase had ended and stopped running. After getting his breathing under control, he walked, found a stream, and drank heavily, acting as if he’d soon cross a desert.
Adam nodded. “Arthur’s power is derived from the skill he has in reading people like scribes read books. He’s learned how to take what he reads and use words and deeds to make people feel and act just as he wishes. It doesn’t work well on someone like Elizabeth who can feel his overwhelming desire for control like a slap to the face; she can resist. But for others… they’re simply unable to avoid falling under his spell for long. Because Elizabeth has be
en radiating Energy for quite a few years, she’s giving everyone there a nudge of development. Including Arthur. It will take a lot more time, though, and she’ll need to get far more powerful, before any of them could reach the levels you’ve hit.”
Below, the elder Adam reached a small copse of trees near the seashore, glanced around, and moved strategically placed branches away from a small wooden canoe with oars. He tossed in his sword, knives, and boots before pushing the craft out onto the sandy shore of the beach and out into the water. Once the water level reached his waist, he scrambled in and began rowing.
Genevieve watched. The words of her mysterious traveling companion weighed heavy on her mind. She turned to him and glanced down. “Is he going to capsize in the waves and nearly drown? Is that why you’re here?”
Adam shook his head. “He’ll make it to his destination with no harm done, other than being a bit thirsty. But once he gets there?” He sighed, remembering the stories. “Once he gets there, he’ll wish the boat had sunk to the bottom of the sea with him still inside.” He leveled Genevieve with a stern gaze. “And perhaps, when you see what happens… perhaps you’ll consider your desire for vengeance in payment for his cowardice more than paid in full.”
~~~37~~~
1017 A.D.
Genevieve soon bored of the monotonous scene below, drifting off to sleep after watching her former lover row the small rowboat away from shore for two hours. Adam suspected that the emotional trauma of the previous time travel day contributed to her fatigue. One couldn’t watch one’s own brutal death and the impact it had upon those one loved most without it taking an emotional and physical toll.
He floated Genevieve into the back seat and maneuvered her into a comfortable sleeping position. He pulled out a bottle of water and drank deeply, munched on some of the prepared rations he’d brought from the future, and reviewed his journal. He checked his supplies a dozen times.
He was bored as well. But he couldn’t sleep at this point. Accurate though his journals were, his father had no good answer to the question of just how long he’d spent rowing from the mainland to his island home.
He was still awake, hours later, when his father turned to look behind him and his face cracked into a sunburnt smile.
He’d seen the island.
Adam could only shake his head at his father’s excitement. He had made a poor strategic decision. He’d spent so much time preparing himself for the deadly fight to come—all his weapons purchases and training had been undertaken to that end—that he’d failed to consider the physical toll rowing would exact upon him. His long sword might offer him a fighting advantage against his brothers, who would counter with only the small knives they used for skinning animals and filleting fish… but if his fatigue prevented him from holding the sword out and keeping his attackers at bay, it would do him no good.
His father’s impatience had finally won out. Had he waited a few months longer, he’d have sufficient funds to hire someone to row him out to the island. He’d have extra food, perhaps a water skin, to maintain his energy for the fight ahead. If he’d waited an extra year, perhaps he’d be able to hire a band of mercenaries, leading them to battle against an unsuspecting and unprepared foe.
Instead, he’d started too soon, fatigued himself to exhaustion before he’d ever arrive, and arrogantly believed that skill in one-on-one battles would enable him to fend off multiple attackers at a time. When the boat finally scraped the soft sand on the beach of his old island home, his father realized his mistake as well.
But he was too tired to do much about it.
Adam leaned over the seat divider and gently nudged Genevieve awake. “Wake up. He’s arrived. Watch what happens next.”
Genevieve stretched as she took a moment to refamiliarize herself with her new reality—the odd white bodysuit with pink streaks that she wore, the strange yet thus-far harmless man near her, the fact that she somehow floated invisibly in the sky while still very much alive—and yawned loudly. She scrambled over the divider into the front seat, not bothering to ask how she’d ended up sleeping in the back this time, and looked at the scene. “Where are we?” She cast an appraising glance over the island below, her eyes widening as she took in the scenery. “It’s beautiful. Is that where he’s from?”
Adam nodded. “They banished him, an easy prospect given that it’s several miles off the mainland shore and difficult to find if you aren’t looking for it.” He pointed below as his father staggered from the boat and onto the shore, drunkenly limping until he was fifty yards inland. After unstrapping his sword and dropping it on the ground, he allowed himself to fall into the freshwater river, letting the cool waters soothe his scorched, parched skin. He surfaced and drank greedily.
After repeating the drink and dunk routine three more times, Adam watched as his father moved to the shore and started climbing out.
Genevieve screamed.
One man held the sword his father had left on the ground, aiming the sharp tip towards his father’s throat. His father held up his hands, water still dripping from his clothes, and glared at his captor. Adam wondered if his father would make a run for the boat, where his throwing knives might give him a temporary advantage.
Then he saw the additional people sliding toward the river. There would be no miracle run to the boat.
His father maintained an animated conversation with his captor. The man finally nodded, stepped forward, and held the sword out as if ready to return the weapon.
When his father stepped forward to accept, his captor swung the hilt against the side of this father’s head. Four men stepped forward. They removed the sheath his father wore and handed it to his captor, who attached it to his waist and nestled his new weapon in place. The four newcomers grabbed the unconscious figure and hauled him up between them, two on either side, and balanced him atop their shoulders.
Then they walked north, toward the main part of the island.
Genevieve looked at him. “That wasn’t exactly a friendly welcome. I thought you said these were his people?”
Adam nodded. “They are. But they haven’t seen him for twenty years. They don’t believe he is who he says he is, so they are being cautious about someone they see as a potential invader. And remember this: he was banished. In their minds, the return of the Nameless One means the violation of a punishment proclaimed by their leader. How do you think they’ll treat him once they confirm who he is?”
Her eyes widened. “It’s going to get worse. Isn’t it?”
Adam sighed before nodding once. “Much worse.” He moved his hands to the navigation controls embedded in the dashboard and they slid forward, gliding over the river to the far end of the island and the caves. The sand, as he’d expected, was smooth in this era, the beach home to dozens of large, rocky statues in the loose form of men’s heads. The statues were positioned on the beach just above the high tide line, the faces looking out over the ocean waters. He knew it was the tribe’s permanent remembrance of their past Adams. They believed the rocky statues contained the spirits of the dead men, who would protect their homes in the caves from potential invasion.
While they waited for his father’s band of captors to walk back to the caves, he told Genevieve more about the culture and rules of the tribe. The leader, or first man, was called the Adam as his title of address and referred to as Adam by those permitted to use a personal form of address. The group practiced a form of primogeniture; the Adam’s eldest son would become the Adam upon the death of his father. Younger sons would succeed to the role only if their older brothers predeceased them. If the reigning Adam died without a male heir, his eldest brother would assume control.
“The Adam’s sons enforced their father’s edicts,” Adam explained. “They also ensured that the group had sufficient food, which wasn’t difficult if their numbers were managed. The island is quite fertile, and there’s plenty of fruit, edible vegetation, small game, and fish.” He paused. “The sons of the Adam do have one unique re
quirement made of them. They must go to the mainland to find wives.”
Genevieve shrugged. “I… guess that’s interesting.” Her face made clear that she didn’t find it interesting at all.
“Ah, but it is in this case.” Adam scanned the crowd and found her, the woman clothed differently, the one hiding in the shadows, faint red wisps still visible in the gray hair. “The current Adam, after fulfilling his obligation to produce two potential heirs, decided he’d go find wives for his infant sons, not wanting to wait until they’d aged enough to handle the task themselves. He went to the mainland and spent six months there, leaving the operation of the island in the hands of his younger brothers. They considered seizing control while he was gone, but they feared him enough to do as they were told. Meanwhile, the Adam found two new mothers whose husbands had died and offered them the chance to come live on his island as effective royalty, on the condition that their daughters be married to his sons. They agreed, and he brought them all back to the island with him.” He paused and turned to face her, waiting until she figured out the rest.
She understood immediately; he’d already offered enough details. “He brought someone else back as well.”
He nodded and gestured in her direction. “My grandmother. She was several months along when they returned to the island. My grandfather’s official wife… she was furious. Wanted to kill my grandmother, or my father, or perhaps both.”
She bit her lower lip. “Did you… stop her murder?”
He shook his head, impressed that she’d both accepted what he was doing and recognized a case where history might need a nudge. “No. Grandfather took full responsibility and said that no one was to harm her or the child she carried. But his wife continued to pressure him; she didn’t want competition, and the woman’s ongoing presence left her feeling threatened. By the time my father was born, he had my grandmother shunned, and assured her child remained nameless. Any given name would have given him some stature in this society, because his name would be the name of the Adam’s son. By ordering my grandmother shunned and my father nameless, he’d effectively killed them without showing weakness and giving in to his wife.”
Adam's Journey (The Aliomenti Saga - Book 8) Page 17
