Preserving Hope (32 page)

Will smiled, and teleported back to his room. He lay down on the cot, and was soon fast asleep. He woke some time later, refreshed, and walked outside to discover that an early twilight had fallen over the village. He walked toward the gate and discovered an unusual bevy of activity for the hour.

The carpenters were handing out several dozen long poles to all who walked by, including Will, who accepted it with a look of confusion. “What’s this for?”

“Far too much gloom around here lately,” Joseph replied. “We’re going to have a celebration for all of the success we’ve achieved. The torches will keep everything visible until late into the evening. The cooks and bakers are making pies and cakes, the brewers are going to put kegs of ale and wine out, and in general, we’re all going to have fun.”

Will grinned. “That sounds delightful.”

Joseph nodded toward the front. “Arthur’s handling collecting a donation to pay everyone for their contributions.” At Will’s look of dismay, Joseph shook his head. “Don’t worry. We’ve calculated it at 5 silver pieces each. Everyone knows how much they should get. He can’t keep any extra without our knowing about it. Says he’s trying to get back into everyone’s good graces after… everything that’s happened lately. The party was his idea, in fact.”

This time, Will frowned only inwardly. Arthur was up to something. But what?

Will helped drive the long torches into the ground, and Silver the metal smith lit one torch that was used to light the others. The ring of torches provided a steady stream of light, and the mood was one of happiness. The cakes seemed to taste better than ever, the wine was delicious, and more than one villager remarked that they could make a fortune selling the ale they drank.

“You mean
another
fortune?” Will asked, arching an eyebrow. Roars of laughter erupted.

As the evening wore on, Arthur began making his way around to the bakers, chefs, and brewers, his face flushed from drinking his share of the ale. He distributed the monies out to the bakers and chefs, his obsequious praise for their effort obvious in its intent to pander, but appreciated nonetheless. When he reached the brewers, however, he found himself five silver coins short. He frowned, then slapped his head.

“I forgot to contribute my share. I’ll be right back.”

Arthur left and ran to his room. He emerged, just a few moments later, looking both confused and concerned. He scanned the crowd, as if trying to divine the answer to some unspeakable question, and his eyes fell upon Elizabeth. His daughter had brushed out her flaming red hair, put on a new dress, and generally looked as happy as he’d seen her for a while. She was still quite reserved, but did engage in some conversation with the weavers, likely discussing their recent Trading mission.

Arthur’s eyes lit up at the sight of her, and he turned on his heel and marched into Elizabeth’s room.

When he emerged a moment later, his face had turned purple with rage, and he stalked toward Elizabeth like a crazed lion hunting its prey. She noticed him coming, and her eyes widened in fear at his approach.

“Thief!” Arthur raged, as he continued to move toward her, drawing the attention of every villager. All conversation ceased as they watched the man.

“You worthless child!” Arthur screamed. “After all of the years I cared for you and fed you, after all the years I provided for you when you had nothing… you would
steal
from me?” He seized her by the hair and hurled her to the ground, where she looked up at him, fear on her face and tears in her eyes. Those she’d been talking to, nervous at what might happen, backed away rather than stand up to Arthur. Their disgust at his actions in murdering Eva failed to extend to standing up to him when he looked like he might harm someone else.

“I went to my hidden space for storing my coins, because I need to pay my five silvers to the brewers. I keep track of exactly how many coins I should have, Elizabeth. And they are
all
gone. I know there’s only one person in this entire community who knows where I keep them. And I
know
that means that only one person could have stolen them from me!”

The villagers had gathered around, the tension palpable. Will was becoming concerned, for Arthur’s rage at all that had happened to him was coming out in an uncontrollable fashion.

Arthur advanced on Elizabeth as the young woman tried to get back to her feet, pushing her back to the ground. “Where’s my money, Elizabeth?” he screamed again. “Where is it? I demand that you give it back!”

Elizabeth finally found her voice, and her courage, as she scrambled to her feet to face him. “No,” she said, and her voice was firm. “I’ll give nothing to you. Any money you had was earned through
my
labor, through
my
suffering. Any material benefits you gave me, however grudgingly, were given to me as part of your duty as my father. Those coins were, and are, rightfully mine.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “You admit it,” he whispered. “You admit to stealing from me. You won’t even deny it.” He leaned toward her. “And you
will
be punished for this.”

For the second time, Will saw Arthur hit Elizabeth across the face.

“Stop!” Will shouted, trying to work his way through the crowd. For the second time, he found himself seized from behind and thrown through the air, away from someone he loved who needed his help.

Maynard advanced on him, eyes glinting in the twinkling torchlight. “Stay out of it, Will. The girl is a thief, and she’ll be punished as she deserves.” He drew his sword and advanced on Will. “Give me an excuse,” he whispered, a maniacal grin spreading on his face, “give me an excuse to run you through like I did with Eva.”

Will spun, bringing his leg up to knock the sword aside, while simultaneously forming a protective skeleton around his body with the nanos. Maynard recovered, and raised his sword high overhead, looking to deliver the fatal blow.

Will risked a quick glance at Elizabeth. The first blow from Arthur had bloodied her mouth and loosened a tooth, but she still stared him down, defiant, her blue eyes blazing. “Stop hitting me,” she said, her bloodied teeth clenched.

Will rolled backward, avoiding the sword, and sprang to his feet, in time to witness Arthur strike Elizabeth across the face again, bruising the other side. Her eyes remained defiant, mocking him, warning him. “I said
,
stop hitting me
!” Her voice was a snarl.

Maynard’s strike had embedded the sword into the ground, and Will raced around him, trying to get to Elizabeth through the crowd, but Maynard caught him again and the two men tumbled to the ground, rolling around, each trying to get the upper position to better enable their punches and elbow blows to land.

Neither of them could miss the verbal altercation, however, as the rest of the villagers had gone silent in morbid fascination at the scene between Arthur and Elizabeth, none of them saying a word to defend the young woman from the man they’d finally unmasked as a manipulator seeking power. They saw the palpable rage in Arthur’s face, saw the vein pulsing in his forehead. “You
stole
from me, you worthless child, and now you talk back? That will
never
happen again!” He pulled his fist back, not intending to slap her this time, but rather intending to shatter bone and cartilage with his fist, to scar her permanently for her offense, to finally break her spirit entirely to his will. With a battle cry, he hurled his whole body into the punch that sailed toward her already-battered face.

The punch never landed.

XXIII

Execution

Everything happened in slow motion after Arthur’s fist began to move towards Elizabeth’s face.

Elizabeth’s face contorted in anger, and her blue eyes burned with an internal fire. Hers was an anger born over a decade of mistreatment, a decade in which Arthur had made it clear that he saw her as nothing more than a means to an end, the ends being his own personal wealth and power. He had been quite willing to discard her when it became clear she would no longer be able to help him reach those ends. And it had gotten worse; she’d learned to earn her own way, and any dependence she had on him, and thus any power he held over her, had vanished. His response was not pride in her accomplishments, but fury that she’d ruined yet another opportunity for him to use her. And now, the physical pain of his blows was the final ignition on the powder keg of anger. Her fury exploded, and Will and all the others watched as Elizabeth’s Energy exploded outward, knocking Arthur fifteen feet through the air, into the paddock housing the barnyard animals. Others standing close to them were knocked off their feet by the force of the blast.

The entire courtyard went deathly silent; even Will and Maynard, locked in combat, had stopped to stare at the sight. Elizabeth had not moved. Arthur had flown back from her as if hurled. Yet he’d flown much too far for anyone, even Maynard, to have thrown him — and Elizabeth had never touched the man. The conclusion reached by all of the villagers was immediate and unmistakable: Elizabeth had developed the abilities they’d all long desired, and to a far greater degree than any of them. Even the Traveler Roland, who had brought the zirple root home with him, was incapable of such an act, of such power. Clearly, Elizabeth had learned of something extra, something special, and she’d kept that knowledge to herself.

Will looked at Elizabeth, her flaming hair matching the still burning fire in her blue eyes, and then looked at Arthur, as the man slowly struggled to rise to his feet inside the paddock where he’d landed. The initial look on his face gave away everything, his emotions and thoughts so loud that Will believed he would have heard them before he ever knew what Energy was.

It had all been a farce.

Arthur had seen amazing things, but he believed those things were the realm of witchcraft, practiced by those well-trained in such arts. It wasn’t something a normal person like him could ever achieve, or any of the villagers, and certainly not a little girl. But the
dream
could still be there, a dream that could be sold as much as well-crafted chair or a finely-sharpened dagger. And it was a dream that only he would have the ability to sell. He’d sold it well, had earned a comfortable income and became the dominant political force in the village because of it. It had all been predicated on using the young woman he now stared at, a young woman who had defied him, and who had defied his understanding of reality by demonstrating the abilities he’d long preached but had never believed.

In Arthur’s mind, Elizabeth had betrayed them all, but most of all, she’d betrayed him.

She’d done exactly what her mother had told her to do in such a circumstance, and her mother in so doing had committed an act considered the highest treason by this village of newly wealthy, aspiring magicians. That Elizabeth could watch her own mother die at their hands and dare to deny them her knowledge was the worst sin, the greatest sin possible, and the flame of anger needed no spark from Arthur to ignite.

Something primal cracked in the psyche of the community. They’d believed in the zirple, had seen minor advancements, and yet none of them, not even Roland, could have done what Elizabeth had just done. They did not understand, and they were fearful. And they reacted as human beings have often acted throughout history when confronted with something strange and unexplainable.

They lashed out.

The crowd roared in its fear and its fury, and advanced as one angry mob on Elizabeth, seemingly oblivious to the possibility that she might do to them what she’d done to Arthur. She was still in her own shock over the events, stunned that she’d lost control, and she didn’t realize what the crowd was doing until it was too late. She was suddenly on the ground, being kicked and pummeled by those who hated her for her silence, and feared her for her skill. Every villager pressed in to lay a hand to her, including the weavers she’d recently befriended, and including the Traders, who’d welcomed her when no one else would.

Maynard recovered from his initial shock, and took advantage of Will’s stunned surprise to roll on top of Will. “Now she’ll join her mother and Eva, three troublemakers all getting their just rewards.” His verbal jab startled Will back to his senses, and awakened Will’s own fire. Maynard threw a punch which Will easily blocked, and Will flipped them around, watching as Arthur moved into the angry mob. Surely he’d speak up. Surely, he’d defend his child.

The mob froze momentarily, as if suddenly unsure of what they were doing, and Elizabeth looked up at her father through the defensive mask of her arms, one eye already swollen shut, her nose broken, cheek bones shattered. “Help… me… Father!” she gasped, as best she could with the oxygen pummeled from her lungs, and with her face bashed by boot and fist.

Arthur stood where he was. “Father? Why do you call
me
Father? I have no child.” His eyes turned completely cold. “I wish you’d never been born.”

With his words, Elizabeth’s will to live shattered, and she lowered her arms to the mercy of the crowd, no longer caring what happened, no longer bothering to defend herself from the death they wish to inflict upon her.

“Elizabeth!” Will screamed.
Elizabeth, don’t you dare give up!

Maynard, noting his distraction, pummeled Will in the stomach, leaving Will gasping for air, and suddenly Will no longer bothered to maintain the charade. He allowed his Energy to fuel his muscles, and suddenly he was a demon, too fast to be seen, too strong to restrain, and within only a minute, Maynard cowered before him, too terrified to move or resist. Will seized the man’s beloved sword, the sword used to murder Eva and threaten Elizabeth, raised it high overhead, and slammed it down… through the man’s tight, thick leather clothing, effectively pinning him to the ground. He threw an elbow to Maynard’s head, rendering him unconscious. Then he turned, and was horrified at the sight of the mob.