Betrayed Hero (Atramento Book 2)

by Nix Whittaker

  Natasha motioned to all the small parts that were laid out on the coffee table.

  He frowned and didn’t want to admit he had only understood half of what she had said. He did like that she was smarter than him in her own esoteric field. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had spoken to him and it had gone over his head. Especially when they spoke on a subject, he was only vaguely interested in. “A Sir Vo motor?”

  He could see her smile softly and he was glad he could bring such an expression to her face. Though he wasn’t sure why she smiled.

  “Yeah, it is just a small motor that runs on electricity. You can program it to do all sorts of things. It is a rather useful little machine. A lot of the stuff was in the abandoned buildings before the shield went up was looted. Probably saved most of it, as there was some intense fighting here. Well, that is what my dad said. He lived near here, even before I was born.”

  Curious, he asked, “What does your father do now?”

  Her brow furrowed as she concentrated on her cleaning and talking at the same time. “He owns the water desalination plant out at the Edge.”

  She placed another piece on the table next to another which was almost exactly the same. He had no idea how she would put it all back together when some parts looked identical. But he knew she could.

  There was only one desalination plant which served the city. The desalination plant was famous in its own way as it had saved the city when there had been a drought and the river which ran through had dried up completely. The plant was still essential now as the river completely dried every year for about three months. Even when it flowed the water was still polluted from travelling through decimated war zones. Mostly the river was used for trade with one of the other city states further inland.

  He blinked with surprise as he finally put together all the pieces of what she had said, “Wow. Your father is famous. I mean, seriously. This city wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for that water farm. You see, the shield is very dependent on water in the first year of its growth. It needs a constant water supply and even a day without water has an adverse effect on the plant growth. After that, it gains most of its water from the micro-atmosphere within the dome. But my parents would never have even considered this city if it wasn’t for that plant. Not with the fickleness of the River.” He didn’t know where this information came from but it felt right.

  Wait his parents were also famous. He could feel just the edges of the memory but it slipped away before he could grasp more of it. Frustrated he gritted his teeth. The pain that came with every memory was worth it though.

  Natasha looked up and stared at him for a long time. He was self-conscious and started to blush. It relieved him when she politely ignored the tint of his cheeks.

  Eventually, she said, “I wish the city would acknowledge that. They forced my dad to sell the house last month just to keep the plant going.”

  “What? Why? Shouldn’t he be getting royalties from the water tax?” Another piece of information that he had no idea was in his head popped out of his mouth before he could think about it.

  She snorted. “We get pennies for the litre. We barely make ends meet. Whatever money the city makes from the water tax goes somewhere else. It certainly doesn’t go to my father.”

  This concerned him. Warren thought about it for a long time. Making his head ache. That told him it had something to do with his missing memories. The answer flashed to him in an instant.

  “The Charter!” he blurted out.

  Natasha looked up from her work and he explained. “The City Charter. When the Whatinga city council was first made, they knew of the weather shield and that it needed power and water. In the charter they made provisions for the people who provided that. There is even a provision there for the people who made the tower. They are like nobility now.

  “Your father should be among them. I mean the greatest family in the city is the Hauser family. They were the ones who owned the wind farm outside the city. They still do and they have the rights to harvest the power from the shield as well. They are also the richest family in the city. Your father should be one of the richest men in Edge, just like them. If he isn’t, it is because someone stole his royalty rights, right out of the Charter.”

  She said, “I’ve never seen the Charter. Harold talks about it when he comes to dinner, but I don’t know what is in it.”

  Warren asked, “Weren’t you taught it at school?” He hadn’t met Harold but assumed it was a friend of hers. That jealousy reared its head again but he stuffed it away. She was just being kind to him. He had no right to be jealous at all.

  Natasha chuckled at that. “Warren, you have to be kidding. I was schooled on the local network. I’m lucky I know there are other continents. I didn’t have a conventional education. If I wanted to know something I found out and usually from the experts. When it comes to local politics, I really wasn’t interested. I never bothered to find out.”

  He scrunched up his eyebrows as he thought. “That is also in the Charter. I mean access to quality schooling.”

  She shook her head lightly. “You really do come from another world. Most of what normal people can expect is the bare minimum. Certainly, that is true of the people out on the Edge. Those in the city have a few more options.

  “Misha, he managed to get into University, but he was always quite studious. He was an exception to the norm though. I’m not surprised he is with Hal. I mean, whenever she goes on about her machines or theories, I only understand half of what she says, let alone understand it. Misha says it all makes sense to him, but he doesn’t understand all the nuances. I don’t think he even tries. He likes understanding people, but not like that.”

  Warren had heard Hal and her theories. They fascinated him. He had never thought there could be older origins to the written language. She had shown him how it was connected to human DNA and it was written in their blood at a microscopic level. When he was able to, he intended to do some research into the connection between language and DNA.

  Everyone had assumed early humans were primitive. Because there was no evidence of large-scale civilization, they had to be simple. What Hal proposed was that the early humans were highly intelligent and almost like super humans. They had lived in smaller family units because of their long-life spans.

  Hal speculated there might be two reasons for the changes in civilisation to how people were now. A clue for her speculation was the early people’s fascination with fertility. She thought the early humans were mostly infertile and had very few children. This would also explain the small family units. Eventually they had somehow overcome this lack of offspring, but in the meantime, they had lost something in the process. This super power which was in their blood.

  Her theories from then on confused him and he could understand Misha’s attitude.

  Hal was fascinating, like a masterpiece you were too afraid to touch. Though you always went back to wonder and marvel at the brush strokes and skill needed to create it.

  Natasha on the other hand was like a flower. Beautiful because there was no artifice. He constantly wanted to reach towards her and touch her. Would her skin feel as velvety as the petal of a rose? She bloomed when he paid attention to her and she turned to him like he was the sun.

  His head ached for a while and he rubbed his temples.

  Natasha asked, “Are you all right?”

  He nodded to dismiss her concern. “I was just thinking of flowers. I think they are important. I just can’t remember why.”

  Her eyes sparked with emotion. “Is there any rush to remember everything?”

  His eyes returned the emotion in hers. “No, no, there isn’t.” Not if he could spend time with her.

  Natasha gave him a soft smile and she lowered her eyes slowly. They returned to their mutual quiet as they both worked.

  Chapter Two

  Whatinga March, 2087

  Harold said from the doorway of the kitchen, “Why, am I not surprised the person I
have spent a week looking for is right here?”

  Natasha looked up from the meal she was preparing. Warren sat at the kitchen table chopping vegetables she had put in front of him a few moments before. He still couldn’t stand or walk for long periods of time, so she had given him a job he could accomplish sitting down.

  Natasha wasn’t surprised to see Harold as he often came over for dinner on the weekend. She glanced behind him, but he hadn’t brought Waha or Rawiri as they now called him. The young agent sometimes came to dinner if the two had been working on a difficult case. She had noticed as time went; his aura settled more. There was still a dark storm in some parts, but he soon would be stable enough to have atramento. She knew Hal watched his aura carefully every time he came to dinner.

  Harold went to sit opposite Warren. He motioned to his cheek. “I see they have painted you up already.”

  They all looked up when Hal said from the doorway, “Not yet. We have to wait for the scars to heal on his chest before we can add anything more. Hello, Harold. I haven’t seen you recently.”

  They were all starting to collect in the kitchen for dinner, Natasha wasn’t surprised by Hal’s appearance. Despite that Hal had been neck deep in some project she worked on only moments before.

  “I was out looking for a missing person. I didn’t think to look here,” Harold said, annoyed and looked significantly at Warren before he looked at Hal again.

  Hal shrugged, unrepentant. “I told you to come to dinner. He has only been here three days if you have looked for a week there are a few days missing. He might never get back those days though.”

  Harold frowned and Natasha explained, “I found him stabbed and bleeding to death in an alley. It looks like he was hit over the head as well. It has messed with his memory.”

  Hal went over to the pot and tasted what Natasha was cooking. Hal added some spices as she said, “Misha thought the stabbing was probably personal, Warren would be safer here while he recovers.”

  Harold nodded; his annoyed countenance had dissipated. “There was no sign of anything suspicious in his apartment. I would say he left of his own free will and hid in the city until whatever he was running from caught up to him.”

  He was quiet for a while before he added, “I’ll talk to his father, but it might be better for him to stay missing. At least for a little while longer.”

  Harold looked at Warren for a long time as he stared back at him. Warren said, “I think I should know you.”

  Harold’s eyes crinkled in his version of a smile. “I was a friend of your mother’s. Your father called me when you missed the usual family dinner. He was concerned, though he did say he wondered if it was over an argument.”

  Harold looked at him extensively as if he hadn’t seen him in a long time and wanted to make sure nothing had changed. Besides, the tattoo on the cheek, there were no visible wounds from his attack. Natasha wondered if Harold would ask Warren to show him his scars by the way he looked at him.

  Warren said, “I don’t remember an argument. I don’t remember a lot of things. They say this should help.”

  Warren waved to his cheek. Harold gave him a long look, eventually he raised an eyebrow as he came to some decision. “That probably saved your life.”

  Hal sat down at the table with a couple of glasses and poured everyone a drink of freshly squeezed orange juice. Their dwarf orange tree had produced quite a season.

  She added, “Oh, more than likely. He was already passed out by the time we got him back to the compound. If Natasha hadn’t found him, he would definitely be dead.”

  Warren looked at her over Hal’s head and gave her a pointed look. He had already thanked her for saving his life. She didn’t have any confusion over his abject gratitude. But she did wonder if he had other feelings for her.

  Natasha put the finished dishes on the table to distract her thoughts as she explained how she had found Warren.

  “It was Hal’s sight atramento. I’ve been seeing things for a while. I dreamed someone injured him and I went to find him.” She didn’t add that the dreams had been driving her crazy, literally. Or they hadn’t only bothered her during her sleep, but also while she was awake.

  Hal looked at her sharply. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Natasha said, “I thought I was going crazy and the dream wasn’t real.”

  Hal gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. “I’ll put the balance atramento on you after dinner. That should fix any issues.”

  Natasha paused her stirring and rested the spoon on the edge of the pot. She turned to Hal. “You mean you can get rid of the sight?”

  Hal snorted. “Sorry, you signed on for the guinea pig thing, so you get stuck with the stuff. Misha says the balance one works more on your inner equilibrium. It should make you aware of what is really there and what the sight atramento is showing you. That way you won’t think you’re crazy.”

  Natasha felt silly that they could easily fix it. Harold and Warren looked at her and she turned back to the preparation to cover her embarrassment. At least she wasn’t really going crazy.

  Harold said to those sitting at the table, “The more you guys can protect yourselves, the better. I’m not going to make the mistake of underestimating what your tattoos can do.”

  Misha came in then. “We are still giving atramento to the community as well. Everyone is going to be better off. I see you have met the new inmate at our asylum.”

  Misha was covered in grease. Probably from cleaning out the end of the shed where they hoped to put in a gym for Misha.

  In a bland voice, Harold added, “I already knew the young Mr Nasser from the University.”

  Misha gave Harold a look. “I thought you looked familiar when we first met. I think I’ve seen you around the University when I studied there.”

  Natasha realised everyone in the room had been on the University Hill and were familiar with the academic world which played the part of the ruling class of the city. The city was technically a meritocracy and being intelligent was the leading factor to have a position of power. The truth was more that money bought position rather than aptitude.

  She was barely able to handle the city, let alone the rarefied stratosphere of University Hill. She turned her back on them all and finished preparing the meal.

  Her mother had encouraged her to explore her world but hadn’t been too fussed with qualifications. For her, education was experience not what could be found in a book.

  When Natasha had tried to get work at the state farms they had asked for those qualifications and Natasha had thought about going to school. Money had been the deciding factor in the end. She just couldn’t afford schooling.

  ___

  Hal and Misha had gone to sleep. Natasha finished putting the servo motor together. It was too late in the evening to start a new project; except she wasn’t ready for bed either. Warren read from Hal’s handwritten book again. He muttered softly to himself occasionally as he worked. He was cute when he did that.

  Natasha tucked her feet under her and leaned back on the couch. She asked, “What is so fascinating about that book?”

  He glanced up and looked at her for a while before he answered, “Well, many of these texts were lost during the global warming crisis. You can get many of these overseas, but our own collection is highly limited. Halcyon must have negotiated with many parties just to get these. I once heard of a professor who had managed to collect things like this together but he died almost eight years ago. He would have been an interesting man to talk to.”

  Warren waved at the handwritten notes next to each large symbol. “The interpretations and the nuances of this language is stunning.”

  He pointed to other notes. “And these, about how they can be integrated into the human systems, are intriguing. Not that I understand them all.”

  The two sets of notes though were in two different handwritings. She motioned to it. “Did Hal work with someone, as there are two sets of notes here?”

 
; He looked at it carefully. “Yes, I suppose she must have.” He went very still before he asked, “Do you have paper?”

  She realised what he wanted and brought over some paper from Hal’s workshop. He wrote a few things and stared at them and at the book.

  Eventually, Warren said, “It’s my handwriting. I mean the notes. The bits about the people and what the words mean, I wrote them. This book belonged to me.” He looked up at her. “Why would I give a book like this to Hal?”

  Playing devil’s advocate, she couldn’t help asking, “You don’t think she stole it?”

  He said, “No, why would she do that?”

  Natasha sighed. “I thought I was naïve, Warren, but you really are. Yeah, it is unlikely Hal stole it, but that’s because I know her. You don’t remember her, so you can’t know whether she is capable of something like stealing.”

  He shook his head vigorously. “No, no, I know she wouldn’t steal it. I might not remember her, but I know she is trustworthy. If she had stolen this, she wouldn’t have shown me the book. Or she could have let me die. No one would have known. She didn’t have to put the atramento on me. Like she said I was almost dead when you found me. She could have just done nothing and I would have died.” He got more emphatic by the end of his speech.

  “I wouldn’t have allowed that,” Natasha said fiercely.

  He looked at her as she added, “I’ve been dreaming about you for weeks. Lying in that alley and bleeding to death. I wasn’t about to let you die.”

  His voice was filled with awe, “You dreamed about me? How did you know?”

  Natasha said, “It has to do with the sight atramento Hal put on me. It allows me to see auras of people and lately it has allowed me to see you in my dreams.”

  Warren frowned as he pondered her words. “What would make me special? It isn’t like you are dreaming about everyone who was stabbed this week. The city is massive. Even if you only dreamed of stab wound victims which were stabbed in rage or violence, you should already be dreaming about someone else. Why me? What makes me so special? If I could only bloody well remember!”