The Sons of Adam: The sequel of The Immortal Collection (A Saga of the Ancient Family Book 2) (22 page)

I shut my eyes and bit my lip, heartbroken. I couldn't escape by sea, the currents at that point were too strong and the water was freezing. There were no signs of boats or ports. That bit of land and sea really did seem to be uninhabited.

"I know you think that you're husband's looking for you," said Gunnarr, standing next to me once more, interrupting my dark thoughts, "but no one will come to rescue you. The building we're hiding you in doesn't appear on any map, old or new. And I know what you're thinking, but you won't find it on Google Earth either."

"How is that possible?"

"I've got good contacts in Silicon Valley," he said, shrugging his shoulders, with no hint of false modesty. "The castle is invisible, and only rocks and grass are shown. Nobody's going to find you here. Officially, this place doesn't exist, and the castle doesn't even appear in the chronicles."

But maybe Iago does know that it exists, or did you hide it from him as well?

But I preferred to remain quiet and focus on the sensations of that walk, feel the wind on my face, fill my lungs with new air, gaze at the infinite mist and enjoy a view that wasn't the monotony of my cell walls.

They let me dine with them; grilled fish with a mustard sauce that Gunnarr prepared and that tasted of a fishing village, with hints of malt whiskey, of a recipe that probably didn't even appear in any contemporary cook book.

Gunnarr then put the sack back on my head and I started counting again, twenty-three steps to the right, fifteen to the left, we went down the stairs and he locked the door behind me, after whispering "I'll be back later".

A couple of hours later I could hear the metallic clunk of the lock and Gunnarr walked through the door. I was waiting for him, sitting on my bed, leaning my back against the wall. He copied my posture and sat next to me.

"Sorry I'm late,
stedmor
. My uncle's very tired today. I wanted to make sure that he was ok and I didn't want to come down here until I knew he was asleep."

All he did that night was ask me questions about Iago. He wanted to know our whole story, he wanted to know everything about the last year we had spent together. Our routines, our social life, our favorite restaurants, Iago's favorite meals, the places we took walks, the projects at the museum, our friends. He wanted to know if I thought he was happy. If his father was finally a relaxed man.

Strange questions for someone who was looking for revenge half a millennium later and holding me hostage on that abandoned moor.

Suddenly, Gunnarr flinched and cut his sentence short. He looked at me, alert, and put his finger to his lips, telling me to be quiet.

"Did you hear that?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"No, what are you talking about?"

"Yes, I heard a noise, upstairs. I hope it's not my uncle," he said, concerned.

And he slipped off the bed, running out of the cell and closing the door behind him.

I waited, listening to the sounds of the night, but I couldn't make out any sound out of the ordinary.

What if Nagorno had taken a turn for the worse? What if he had fallen over? And if he was ok, but he'd realized that Gunnarr wasn't there and had discovered his nightly visits to my cell?

None of the options were in my favor. Unable to sleep, I stared at the door, waiting for Gunnarr to come back at any minute and tell me what had happened.

But Gunnarr didn't come back. Hours passed and Gunnarr didn't come back.

And then I realized something that made my heart pound in my chest: Gunnarr had run out without locking the door, I never heard the metallic scrape of the lock I was used to when he left.

I tiptoed to the door and tried turning the knob without making any noise.

It was unlocked.

I carefully pushed it open and crept out of my cell. There was just one corridor, dark with no light. No medieval torches or modern electricity. But I had already walked that corridor in the dark. I knew where the stairs began, my hips and knees had collided with those steps on the first days, when Gunnarr carelessly dragged me up them. I held onto the wall and walked in silence, counting my footsteps.

When I reached what seemed to be the main floor, the light coming through the windows allowed me to get my bearings. I looked for the exit, and found a large door. The castle remained silent, as if it were uninhabited. I prayed that Gunnarr had forgotten about me and that Nagorno was in a deep sleep. I prayed that I would never have to see them again.

Just as I had feared, the door was locked, so I tried all the windows until I found one that opened without making any noise. I jumped down without giving it a second thought. The ground was barely three meters below me and I landed as best I could.

And then I ran. I ran to the stables and when I got there I went straight to the Akhal Teke block. I went over to the mare, saddled her, whispering words that only she understood and mounted her in silence.

I knew a lot about horses, and I knew that they could find their way in the dark if they had travelled the path before. But she went in the opposite direction to the track that Gunnarr and Nagorno had taken me on our morning stroll. I wanted to find out if there were other routes that the mare had travelled previously that would take me to civilization. Maybe a ferry, to the house of a distant neighbor, or somewhere I could hide from my captors.

The mare found her way and began to trot, with the elegance of a purebred. The animal knew full well where it was headed.

Perhaps my imprisonment was about to reach its end.

25

The patriarchs

LÜR

Current Europe, 20.000 B.C.

Lür was in his hut when he saw them leave with harpoons and spears. They had painted their faces with white ash and some were just children who didn't even want to go to the Solstice. They belonged to the Warrior branch, which was a decision Adana had made and that hadn't gone done well at all.

"Are you coming, Lür?" He heard the sweet whispers of his companion, claiming him from under the albino fox furs.

He closed the door and silently followed her call.

Adana was waiting for him, naked and ready. He let her lick his neck and suck his fingers, he let her straddle him. She whispered the Ancient Words as they reached climax, but Lür's heart wasn't in it that time. For a long time now, sleeping with Adana had been like owning a beautiful landscape, a sunset, a never ending valley surrounded by mountains.

Overwhelming.

It was impossible to even try.

Lür was aware that Adana had lost interest in him. After losing so many young children, Adana had gone back to seeking casual companions. Sometimes her daughters or great-granddaughters brought her companions to the camp. On other occasions, she went hiking without Lür, hidden by various members of the Guard branch, who were in charge of always escorting her and keeping her safe.

The Sons of Adam clan was organized in branches. Every family was specialized in a trade: Interpreters, Fishermen, Weavers, Explorers, Hut builders, Skin tanners, Spear carvers, Figure carvers, Tattooists, Cooks, Hunters, Rock Painters, Midwives, Healers, Wet nurses, Traders and Writers, among others. After so many generations, every member of the Sons of Adam was an expert at their job, so much so that the figures made by the Carvers were sold by the Traders to any camp in any clan. The Midwives were always called upon to oversee the most difficult births, having been trained by Adana since they were young. She always insisted that they returned with cowrie shells in exchange for their services. The white hut, guarded day and night by the Guards, contained millions of shells, which Adana gave to her sons to trade with. With patience and over many generations, Adana had managed to get most clans to agree to trade with shells.

But Lür was worried that day.

"Why did you send them, Adana?"

"You know why, none of the clans wanted to share their daughters and we have many more young men than women. If I don't sort this out now, the next generation will lack children and it will be difficult for us to survive as a clan."

"Share their daughters? Is that what you call it now? Better to say that they lose them, that they never see them again."

"We take them in, we look after them, we make them a part of our clan, isn't that a gift?"

"It would be if you let the ones who don't adapt go back to their families, but the same thing always happens when we spend too long in the same valley. The other clans turn their backs on us when they hear stories about the destiny of the children who wanted to run away from you. It's pretty obvious why nobody wants to mix with the Sons of Adam anymore," said Lür, lifting himself off the bed and putting his pants and white shirt back on.

"If that's how you feel, we'll leave this land as well," she replied, distracting herself with a leather bracelet that one of her sons had woven for her.

"Yes, maybe it is time to leave," muttered Lür, turning his back on her.

"What do you mean?" said Adana, standing up naked and embracing Lür from behind.

He didn't even have to think about it. He'd known for centuries that there would never be a right time.

"You won't let me leave, will you?" he said, knowing the answer but feeling good about himself for the first time in ages.

"Nobody leaves our clan until they die," replied Adana, calmly. "And you don't want me to exile you."

"But I can't die."

"So you can't leave."

"And what if I've already made a decision, what if I'm not asking for your permission?"

"You can't leave, I would send the Sons of Adam after you and they would bring you back to me."

"And you'd force me to be with you."

"We are the patriarchs of the Sons of Adam."

"Maybe I don't want to be anymore."

"What other destiny could you possibly have? Roam the Earth on your own again?"

I'm starting to miss that. But without you, without you, Adana.

"You're changing, you're not the sweet Adana I used to know, Negu's wise companion. Or maybe you're beginning to reveal yourself now, is that it? Bloodthirsty, cruel, heartless?"

She looked at him without seeing him. Her eyes looked straight though Lür's stare and didn't stop, focusing on something greater than the patriarchy. He stroked her long face for the last time. What was going on inside that head of hers?

He would never know, she never gave him a direct answer to anything when they argued. The truth was, she never considered him, he had been a longer companion than the others, but Adana had always decided on the path of the Sons of Adam, and Lür was well aware of that. None of them were his descendants. He was still just a guest, someone from outside the clan. His blood had never mixed with theirs.

He didn't want to leave like a coward, without saying goodbye. He spoke to each child, each mother, each elder. They were all silent and gave him a look of great sadness, as if they were looking at the corpse of a person they had loved dearly. Once, a long time ago.

Adana put a curse on Lür, and he left the white huts, never looking back.

26

True means

IAGO

A buzz from the doorbell woke me with a start. I ran to the door, where the voice of a deliveryman told me that a rather large package had come in my name. I threw on the first pair of jeans I found and a grey shirt and ran down the stairs to find the source of the interference.

In the entrance hall I found several workers carrying different sized packages and Marion checking the order list, with the same decisive wave of a hand that I had seen four centuries earlier in the port of Southampton.

"What is all this, Marion?"

"A strain of lab rats with their cages, bags of feed and water," she said, pointing to some boxes. "A transparent board for us to gather our theories and make notes of the formulas. Do you want me to continue, or are you going to let us in so as we can get started as soon as possible?"

I ran my hand through my scruffy hair, still half asleep.

"No, that's fine. Tell them to leave everything on the fourth floor," I said in the end.

An hour later we had finished unpacking the animals and we had found them a home at the end of my laboratory. Marion had bought herself a white lab coat, and she held another one out for me. "Let's put the transparent board in front of the window and grab a couple of white markers."

The game had begun again: how much should I tell her? How much should I hold back?

Marion pretended to be as calm as always, but I knew that she had been waiting for that moment for quite some time.

I sighed. The performance had started.

"I'm going to be honest with you: I haven't found the cause of why we are longevos," I lied, watching her reaction. "But when I read your reports, I suspected that it had something to do with our ability to maintain the telomerase gene active, or generates it ourselves."