Convergence (29 page)

The shared glances before Will finally nodded with deep regret.

Sebastian bowed his head. “My only request… I’d like to do this entirely of my own free will. I… I want to take my own steps, under my own power, as I meet my fate.”

They respected that decision. The worst punishment wasn’t the one your enemies inflicted. It was the punishment you inflicted upon yourself.

Adam, Will, and Sarah spent several minutes pulling the netting from Porthos, while Anna, Hope, and Fil continued to comfort Angel. Adam dropped several comments, letting Porthos know that tricks wouldn’t be tolerated, that his distrust and skepticism remained. Porthos kept his eyes closed and nodded each time, accepting Adam’s concerns, assuring him that he would do nothing but what Athos had done.

Will wondered how Adam had gotten Eva free of the netting so quickly, but hadn’t done the same for anyone else. But it didn’t seem the time to ask.

The netting finally fell free. They pulled Porthos to his feet on his unsteady legs, and it took a moment until he could stand upright. He looked at Will. “You’ve been a worthy adversary, Will Stark.” He held out his left hand.

Will shook it.

They watched Porthos walk across the room toward the hole in the exterior wall. He slowed as he reached the opening and leaned out. “I should probably mention that I’m afraid of heights,” he muttered.

And then he jumped.

Will moved toward the opening slowly. He didn’t want to see what he suspected he’d see. But it seemed appropriate that he be the one to announce the deaths of the last Hunters. He peered through the hole in the wall, using his Energy to ensure he didn’t fall out as well. He saw the two bodies, side by side, contorted faces looking at each other. Victor’s limbs were bent wildly askew, and Will saw deep indentations in the Plaza concrete generated by the force of the dual impacts.

He pulled back. The Hunters had died as they’d lived, side by side, inseparable to the end.

He felt the eyes on his back and didn’t turn around. “It’s all over.”

Their eyes moved to the
hole in the exterior wall and they understood all it symbolized.

The Hunters were dead. One had succumbed to injuries sustained weeks earlier. The others had committed suicide upon recognizing the extensive tragedy they’d generated in the lives of so many.

The Assassins were dead. One had died after refusing to commit yet another murder against a defenseless innocent. The other had died while attempting to commit a similar murder, confronted by a greater, more deadly fighter, who’d fought to defend a loved one.

The man who’d controlled it all, the man who’d recoded the minds of those who served him with absolute loyalty lay dead as well. His death, ironically, was the most noble, engaging in the activity of teleportation that so terrified him to save the life of a daughter he’d ordered killed on more than one occasion.

On this floor, one could do little but declare a decisive Alliance victory. They’d wanted to keep the casualty count low. But none of them felt significant grief over the Aliomenti deaths in this room.

The deaths of the Alliance members, even with Eva’s apparent change in loyalty, tempered any thought of celebration.

Will moved away from the hole in the wall and walked back to the others, his steps heavy, and he sat with little grace upon the ground. He felt the eyes on him. Hope’s plan had gotten them to this point. Now they wanted Will to provide guidance on their next steps.

He had no idea. He’d not thought this far ahead. With few ideas, he looked instead for more information. “What do we know of the situation below?”

Fil’s arm was wrapped firmly around Sarah, but his eyes were on his sister, his sympathy deep. She was wallowing the same pit of despair he’d experienced when he’d thought the woman shrouded in his embrace dead at the hands—and knife—of Abaddon. Angel hadn’t leveled any cities or generated any tsunamis in her grief, likely because she’d been overwhelmed with positive Energy from her family before she could react in an explosive manner. Anna hadn’t left Angel’s side, sitting close by as Angel accepted the loving embrace of her mother. Fil could sense his daughter’s deep empathy for her aunt, and felt a sense of pride at the character she’d developed during his long—though unknown to him—absence as she’d matured.

He glanced at his father at last in response to the question, reading the wisps of Energy floating in from the lower levels. “It seems that the fighting below has stopped. I checked in with Ian. He said that Athos’ decision to launch the gravity mechanism probably upped the death count by twenty-five percent, many due to the collisions experienced when everything reversed.” He studiously avoided looking at Adam and Eva as he spoke. “Ian said Athos approached as he fought another man and tried to talk them out of fighting. Neither Ian nor the Aliomenti man believed Athos, both suspecting some type of ruse.” He winced, his eyes flicked at Angel, then back to his father. “Apparently, Ian got some help and the man he fought ended up dead. He challenged Athos, telling him to put the sword down if he was serious about stopping the fighting. And he did. No hesitation. Ian knocked him out, but everyone had seen what Athos did. In fairness, that singular act helped to accelerate the end of the fight. The medicine already injected via sword cuts was taking effect, which also helped. Our people offered water laced with medicine after. They told the Aliomenti there was medicine in the water and drank some themselves to show it wasn’t harmful. By the time Athos woke up again, they’d all put their weapons down and were talking. Athos got quite the chilly reception—our people were understandably not fans, and the Aliomenti were angry that he’d messed with the gravity and caused a lot more deaths.” Fil grimaced. “Athos came here and… well, you know the rest.”

“Any word on casualties?” Adam’s voice was higher pitched than usual.

“Ian said it’s horrific down there. He has no idea how they’ll identify all of the dead because many of them are… not readily identifiable.” Fil gulped. “Ian’s suggesting that we evacuate the survivors and wipe out the Island.” Fil sighed. “I think I know someone who can help with that.”

“No.”

They turned to Angel, whose head had snapped up as Fil spoke Ian’s suggestion. She extracted herself from Hope’s embrace and staggered to her feet. “We’re not treating this Island as a mass gravesite. Every person who died here deserves a proper burial. I’m not letting a wave carry…” She swallowed hard. “I’m not letting Charlie be carried away by a wave or turned to dust. He deserves better. And Eva… I know she made some choices at the end that we don’t yet understand, and I want to know why she did it… but doesn’t she deserve better after all the good she’s done for so many centuries? And she did stop Porthos from escaping, right? And if we move the two of them for proper burials… we can’t… we can’t be the ones to decide who gets respectful treatment and who doesn’t.” She shuddered. “I can’t agree with Ian’s suggestion.” She looked at Fil. “And I don’t want you going through that again either.”

She sat back down and leaned against Hope once more.

Adam nodded, glancing at Eva. “I agree.”

“She wasn’t a traitor,” Will said quietly.

“But she told Arthur all about us!” Sarah replied, surprised at Will’s statement. “Even Athos said he knew she’d been talking and telling them all kinds of secrets.”

“She’s no more a traitor than I am,” Will replied, “because I
asked
her to go to Arthur.”

Silence filled the room. Adam gave Will a puzzled look.

“It’s like Arthur said,” Will continued. “If he’s been trying to kill us for so many years, he only needs to succeed once for everything to be ruined for all of history.” Will shook his head. “It was too much risk. We needed to tell Arthur so he could ensure that he
didn’t
succeed in killing us off. He could make just enough mistakes to avoid the suspicions of those who might notice. But yes, he’d have ample opportunity to prepare for this time, just as we did.”

They all stared at him. “But… why her?” Anna asked.

“Shock value.” He saw the confusion. “Someone had to go tell Arthur Lowell that his main adversary was born in the distant future, traveled to the past and met him there, and arrived there with knowledge and skill and technology greatly advanced from anything he could fathom.” Will chuckled. “Who could be a more effective messenger than a woman he’d thought dead for a thousand years? Besides, Eva is quite persuasive. Always has been.” His smile clouded. “Always was.”

Silence filled the room once more. Will finally looked at Adam. “Your story was interrupted, and I want to hear more. Many mysteries make far more sense now that I know the truth. I remember Eva at one point noting that she and Adam looked absolutely nothing alike, which I thought odd. Siblings generally show at least some characteristics in common, yet they couldn’t have looked more different than if they’d not been related at all. Which they weren’t.”

“It could just be a case of winning the genetic lottery, too,” Fil quipped. “For example, I got all the brains and Angel got all the looks.”

Angel offered a faint chuckle. Fil winked at her.

“Yet there’s a familiarity in your appearances,” Will said. “So… I can’t doubt your story, Adam, even if I was inclined to disbelieve.” He paused. “Yet they separated for so long. We tried to find Eva for centuries. Your father seemed very interested in where she and Hope had been—” he paused, confused, as Hope stiffened at his words and then relaxed “—after their apparent deaths so long ago. After a time, he seemed to give up the search, very suddenly in fact. What I don’t understand is: how did they reconnect so that… well, so that you’re here now?”

Hope’s face flushed, then relaxed. Will frowned slightly. Something he’d said had bothered her. But what? And why?

Adam, who’d looked more deeply concerned as Will fleshed out his question, had visibly relaxed as well. “They were both watching Arthur for similar reasons. Three of you had found the ultimate source of ambrosia, and that was of strategic importance, one Arthur could exploit if he’d learned of it. My mother would sneak into an Aliomenti base when Arthur was there, but you and my father were away. She’d watch Arthur, spy on his various meetings, and try to learn if he’d found that original ambrosia source. She’d figured out that Arthur would have two motives for doing so, should he ever take the initiative to look.”

Will nodded. “Right. He could destroy the source so the only supply would be what the Aliomenti grew in controlled spots around the world. And he could try to find the first people who’d ever used it and learn the secrets of reversal. Not so he could use it as
we
would, but so he could use the knowledge as a weapon against enemies. Reverse immortality and watch them age and die. Watch as they violated the Fourth Oath and became parents. People would see what happened and realize that those who challenged Arthur met cruel fates, and that would push people further under his control.” He frowned. “Probably not as critical given the mental reprogramming, though.”

Adam nodded. “Exactly. My father realized those ramifications as well, thankfully before Arthur, and decided to try to find the source himself. He knew the three of you had located it, and did a lot of thinking about the conversations the two of you had held centuries earlier when he’d tried to figure out where Eva and Hope were hiding. He realized in later years that it wasn’t necessary to understand where they
were
, but where the three of you had traveled while you were away for that year. If he followed the same path the three of you traveled, he’d reach the same place. In other words, he needed to remember where Eva had been born.”

Will frowned. “Born?”

Adam nodded. “That’s where she wanted to go, right? She wanted to find where she’d been born, once freed from any travel constraints by her apparent death. She guided the three of you in the direction of her birth. Remember?”

Hope’s eyes sparked a bit, but she too frowned.

Will glanced at Adam. “I do remember. She insisted that we travel to the northwest, because that was the direction of the land of her birth. But we never made it, because we found the forest, detoured that way, stayed for a while, and then headed south. We never found the place she’d been born.”

Adam shook his head. “The forest was no detour, Will. That
was
the place where she was born.”

Will and Hope stared at
Adam, trying to make sense of his declaration.

As the wheels in their minds spun, Angel extracted herself once more. She’d stared at Charlie’s body since he’d arrived in this room, and it had finally taken its toll. “I have to get out of this place.” She jumped to her feet and moved toward the elevator.

Fil glanced at his father, trying to get a sense of what Adam’s last words meant. Hope was still generally dazed by the events of the day, but she’d been clearly shaken by Adam’s words as well.

Will looked around at the others, and saw the drawn faces and noticed once more the heavy coppery scent of blood hanging in the air. The winds swirling in from the hole blasted by the Hunter Athos didn’t aid in making this a place for reflection and conversation either.

Will nodded at Angel. “It’s probably best for all of us to leave this place and get some fresh air.” The others all filed toward the elevator, in silent agreement that the human-like transport seemed best at a time like this.

Adam was the last to move. He knelt by Charlie’s body and closed the eyelids, staying briefly on his knee before standing and joining the others.

Will moved closer to Hope, who had lost her exterior shell of strength as Angel moved freely ahead, wrapping her arms around herself. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head. “Let’s go.”

Their centuries together had left Will uniquely well equipped to read her moods and body language and words. She was clearly disconcerted by something, but needed time to process everything before she’d be ready to talk. He’d made that assessment before asking the question. His words weren’t spoken with an expectation that she’d talk, but rather to let her know of his concern for her and his availability when she was ready to discuss what bothered her.