A Mutiny in Time (8 page)

They finally stopped thrashing once they were locked in the backseat of a car and black hoods were pulled over their heads. Sera fumbled for the door handle, but it was locked tight. It took a while for the two of them to calm their breathing, but silence eventually fell over them as the vehicle drove for miles and miles.

Dak didn’t make a peep as they rocketed through endless unseen streets. But every once in a while his shoulder trembled, and she knew he was stifling a sob. She wished she could talk to him, tell him that she knew all too well what it was like to have missing parents. Even though she’d never met her own, the pain was like a hole in her heart. But she couldn’t find the words.

If she couldn’t cheer him up, she could at least try to keep him safe. She resolved to do whatever it took to get him out of this mess.

On they went, turn after turn, the car silent, the mood gloomy.

What light Sera could see through the coarse fabric of the hood suddenly cut out when the car pitched downward then upright again, as if they’d gone underground or into the lower floor of a garage. There was a bang of metal and the vehicle bounced before speeding forward again.

Soon they came to a stop. Someone escorted them out of the car and led them forward, steering Sera by her elbow. Although Sera couldn’t see where they were going, she kept her ears trained on Dak’s shuffling footsteps. There didn’t seem to be much point in fighting, but if they dared to separate her from Dak, she would try.

Their captors didn’t take the hood off her until they’d reached a metal door. Sera quickly looked around. They were in a dark garage, just as she’d guessed, but only a few cars were parked there. It seemed to have been carved out of rock, with uneven walls and ceiling. Dak wouldn’t look her in the eyes. A blond man had them each by the arm, and he nodded toward the silvery door.

“Down the elevator we go,” he said. “Then all of your questions will be answered.”

Down the elevator they went.

Three floors down. A long hallway. A right turn, a left turn, and a second left. Another long hallway. Sera thought she’d keep track in case they had the chance to make an escape, but wherever they were, the place was built like a labyrinth.

And then, finally, they reached a small room with a table and four chairs. Two of those were occupied, by a man and a woman. They were both about the age of Dak’s parents. The man looked a little goofy — big nose, black hair sticking up — but the woman was stunningly beautiful, with dark skin and a flawless face. Sera wished Dak was in the mood to make one of his famously awkward historical speeches in an attempt to break the ice. It might bore everyone else, but right now it would lift her spirits. Dak remained silent, though. His face was sallow and droopy, and his eyes were red and moist.

On the table was a spread of food that looked too good to be true. Fruit and cheese and cakes and pastries. Sera’s stomach rumbled with hunger. The traitor.

The blond guard motioned for Dak and Sera to take the two empty chairs. Then, to their enormous surprise, he handed the Infinity Ring to Dak. “We’ll be right outside if you need us,” the guard said to the woman. She simply nodded.

The door closed behind him, and a weighty silence settled on the room. Dak clutched the Infinity Ring to his chest.

The man spoke first. “Well. Dak and Sera. We have so much to say to you. It’s hard to even know where to start.”

“Don’t you think we should start by telling them our
names
?” the woman asked, giving her partner a reproving glare.

“Oh, yes, of course we should.” The man cleared his throat. “My name is Brint, and this is my colleague, Mari. We, um, both know who you are. Although I guess you’ve figured that out by now. Please feel free to help yourselves to some food. If there’s anything else you want —”

Sera had reached the end of her rope. “We had a fridge full of food back at Dak’s house. You know, where we were when your goons trespassed on private property, set off explosives, and
kidnapped
us? We’re not in very good moods, and what we
want
is to know what’s going on!”

Brint had flinched at Sera’s outburst, leaning back as far as he could in his chair, a look of complete shock on his face. Mari hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Well?” Sera pushed.

“I like your spirit,” Mari said quietly. “You’re going to need it for what we’re about to ask of you. But rein in the outbursts and Brint will tell you everything you need to know. Brint?”

Sera watched as the man shifted in his seat uncomfortably. It was obvious who was really in charge here. But Brint quickly recovered and took on a serious air as he leaned forward and folded his hands on the table.

“We’re members of a group called the Hystorians,” he began. “You wouldn’t have heard of us, but our organization goes back many, many centuries. It was founded by the great philosopher Aristotle in 336 BC. We’ve lasted in a continuous line ever since, united in a common goal to one day save the world from a disaster that only a visionary like Aristotle could have predicted. And today you’ve given us the biggest breakthrough since he spoke of that vision. Time travel.”

Sera glanced over at Dak, who sat up a little straighter, eyes focused on Brint. She was sure he felt the same relief she did — they hadn’t been taken by the SQ after all.
If
these people weren’t lying.

“Time travel?” Dak asked. “What does that have to do with Aristotle?”

Brint tightened his lips and nodded. “It has everything to do with him. He knew time travel would be possible someday, and he knew what it would be needed for. To go back and correct the Great Breaks. To remove the Remnants that haunt us. To set right the world’s course and prevent reality from ending in a fiery Cataclysm.”

The man paused and gave a long look to Sera, then Dak. “History is broken, and we need your help to fix it.”

T
HERE WAS
an emptiness inside Dak unlike anything he’d ever experienced. The shock and anger of losing his parents had worn off, leaving a numbness that was somehow worse. Numbness, and confusion. He had no idea what had happened, which wasn’t entirely surprising. The bad news was that Sera didn’t seem to know either. All he could say for sure was that they were gone, and the ache was like a choking smoke in his lungs.

But Brint’s words had pierced through the haze. Dak felt a spark of something. It wasn’t quite enough to make him forget his misery. But it was enough to get him interested.

“What does that
mean
?” Dak asked. “Fix history?”

“The world is not
right
, Dak, Sera. It’s gone off the rails, and we needed time travel to get it back on course.”

“But . . .” Sera began. “But history’s, well,
history
, isn’t it?”

“Let me start from the beginning,” Brint suggested. “We don’t have a lot of time — pardon the irony — but you two need to have a general understanding of what we’re dealing with. Are you ready for the story?”

Sera gave Dak a look that told him she was worried that he was going to fall apart at any second. And he probably
would
fall apart if he got any sympathy right now. So he put on a dopey grin and rubbed his hands together.

“I’m always ready for a story that starts with Aristotle,” he said.

Brint smiled. “Aristotle is my personal hero. He was one of the greatest minds of his time or any before it. As such, he was chosen at the age of forty-one by the king of Macedon, King Philip II, to become the tutor of his son, Alexander. Aristotle felt in his heart that Alexander would go on to do great things. He felt this very, very strongly — he even called the boy Alexander the Great so that he’d be aware of what was expected of him. But it all went wrong.

“In 336 BC, Alexander and his father were assassinated by a man named Attalas, the king’s own father-in-law, so that the grandson of Attalas could be the next king instead of Alexander. That boy was Karanos, Alexander’s half brother, and he did indeed become the next ruler, and went on to oversee a time of terrible darkness for Asia. Aristotle was devastated. He never really got over it.”

Now Dak was truly fascinated. He knew this story, of course — he’d been on a major ancient Greece kick just a few years before — but he had no idea what it had to do with anything that was going on now. He listened intently as the man continued, almost managing to ignore the ache that still swelled within his chest.

“Aristotle had an understanding of the world and its workings that far surpassed anyone of his period. He believed the universe had an order to it, that there is a fabric of reality in which the stories of life are woven. And deep in his heart, he knew, absolutely knew, that Alexander was not supposed to have been murdered that day. Alexander’s death represented a tear in the very fabric of reality. And, being the visionary man that he was, Aristotle planned to
make things right
.”

“How?” Dak and Sera asked together.

Dak went further. “How did he plan on reversing a murder?”

Mari answered this time, tucking her hair behind an ear. “Time travel. He believed it was possible — not in his own era, but someday. He held out hope that mankind would develop the means to navigate the time stream. To go back and correct the things that didn’t go the way they were supposed to go. Because if Alexander’s fate had gone wrong, it seemed to him that other problems would likely arise as time marched on. He called these incidents Breaks, and Alexander the Great’s murder was only the first.”

“But people die every day!” Sera said. “And think about how many horrible things have happened throughout history. All the wars, all the abuse, all the suffering. How could we possibly go back and stop every tragedy?”

Mari was shaking her head before Sera had even finished. “It’s not like that. This isn’t necessarily about
bad
things that have happened. For good or ill, most of history is part of the natural fabric of reality. We’re talking about events that never should have happened to begin with.”

“I don’t buy it,” Sera said.

“Sera . . .” Dak began.

“No! Dak, you’re too trusting. I can understand that this Aristotle guy was torn up over his student getting killed. I totally get that he’d wish he could go back and change what had happened. But who is he to decide what was
supposed
to happen and what wasn’t? How could he possibly know that?”

“Because of the Remnant,” Brint answered. The cheeriness in his voice had disappeared entirely. He caught Sera’s eyes. “Ah. I think you know what I mean. I think you’ve experienced a Remnant yourself, haven’t you? They’re unpleasant as a general rule. And Aristotle experienced the very first Remnant in history.”

“That definitely wasn’t in the biography I read,” said Dak. “And it was a very long biography.”

“It wouldn’t have made any of the public records,” Mari explained. “Aristotle had a traumatic vision at Alexander’s funeral — a vision of the great man and leader that Alexander would have become. But he knew better than to speak of it — after all, Karanos was king now, and suggesting that he
shouldn’t
be king would have been treason. So Aristotle only shared this knowledge with a small group of trusted friends and students. These were the first Hystorians, and they began a tradition that’s stretched throughout centuries and across continents, documenting the subsequent Breaks. In effect, we’ve been recording an entire secret history.”

“A secret history?” echoed Dak. “You mean there’s
more
history to learn?”

Sera only rolled her eyes.

Brint cleared his throat. “And all of that leads us to the Cataclysm. More than a dozen Breaks have been officially listed as matching Aristotle’s criteria. Everything from the kidnapping of a First Lady, to a botched mission in Europe during World War Two that had significant consequences. These Breaks not only led to undesirable outcomes, they severely damaged
reality itself
. The Remnants are one consequence of that. The increasingly intense natural disasters are another. Everything is falling apart, as you must be more than aware.”

Dak thought about that — his knowledge of history left no doubt that the rate of earthquakes, tornadoes, hurricanes, and volcano eruptions had increased dramatically over the last hundred years. But to think that was somehow tied to certain events in history taking an unplanned route was . . . crazy. Just plain crazy.