Chương 42: 41-A Mother’s Devotion

Finally. I get what I deserve. I get what should have been mine from the beginning. Ralto looked at his elder brother's sleeping form. Such a waste of a life. He worked night and day to make the family business thrive, so that this repulsive freeloader could spend it all on whores and taverns. He did not even get a thank you. When he had dared to suggest to his father that the family shop should have been his, the old man had fallen into a rage and beaten Ralto within an inch of his life.

He had worked in the docks in his youth and was a giant of a man, even in his old age.

"He is your elder. He is the firstborn. You will respect him and obey him. You will follow our ways, or leave this house," his father had told him. Too bound by tradition, that was his problem. Well, there were many ways to skin a cat. He found the place using information sold to him by an old historian versed in the occult. There were deals to be made, but once he had fulfilled his part, the Keeper kept his word. And here he was, about to kill his brother.

No one would suspect him—after all, he was being born at that very moment, in the healer's hut on the other side of town. The perfect alibi. When his family came back, they would find the lifeless corpse of their elder son in his crib. They would feel guilty and miserable, and Ralto was glad for that—they deserved to suffer. He would be the elder. Justice would be served. Ralto looked coldly at the sleeping baby in front of him.

He was afraid he would not dare to do it, once he had the chance, but he felt only cold rage when he watched his one-year-old brother, snoring softly in his crib. He grabbed the pillow he was going to use to smother the baby—he felt nothing. He pulled the sheets covering the baby's body—he could do it. He brought the pillow closer to the baby's face. His brother smiled in his dreams—he felt… something? He looked down in disbelief, watching the tip of the spear that had pierced him through.

It disappeared as his attacker pulled the weapon free. Ralto turned around, swaying. A tall, beautiful, swarthy woman, with pointed ears framing a perfect face, was cleaning her spear with a cloth. She looked at him with contempt: "Your own brother, and when he was a baby. It is a pity I could only kill you once. You are the price for my journey, but I would have gladly done it for free," Olana said. Olana grabbed the body before it could hit the floor. She made sure everything was exactly as she had found it.

Then she took the corpse out of the home and buried it far from prying eyes, where she knew no one would find it. History had been protected, and the Keeper owed her one trip. She started her journey back to the Tower. Reaching Belona had been easy, now that both worlds were connected through the dungeon Billy had created for the Unfocused Imperials to live in. As she walked unseen through the night, her mind wandered to two days before, when she had asked Alarel for permission for some free time.

"I know this is the worst time to ask, we are probably going to war, but you know me, Alarel. I would not do it if it were not important," she told her. She hated not telling her about being pregnant, but in her experience, secrets were best kept when only one person knew them. This child was special: born of an Essential and an Experiential, the first of his race. He would be a target for the rest of his life. She had to train him. He had to be able to protect himself. Slowly, a plan formed in her mind.

She could use the Tower to travel to the past, to some insignificant point in time where nothing happened. She could grow and train her child there, in some remote forest, away from prying eyes and without the possibility of altering history. When the present finally caught up with them, it would not find a baby, but a powerful warrior trained by one of the Babylon Thirty-Four. But no one could know.

"But of course, Olana—take all the time you need," Alarel graciously told her. Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

"And congratulations on the baby," she added just as Olana left the room. Damn that woman and her knowing eyes. When she asked for her payment, she demanded the coordinates of a destination seventeen years in the past Seventeen. That was enough time to teach him the rudiments of survival and combat. She would always be his mother, but she had learned long ago that she had to let them walk their own paths. Belona was the perfect training ground. She had chosen a secluded spot in a forest, far from the Beli.

There were wild beasts, but not Essentials. All the Beli lived in the city, and the dungeons up there ate all the Essence they produced. It was just perfect—a locked system and no Essence. No chance to work System or Dungeon magic. No chance to get caught. She exited the Tower at the required point in the timeline. Seventeen years, and then the present would catch up with them. Eight months later, Olana prepared herself for what was to come. Tonight was the night.

She had a feeling for these things and plenty of experience. She had built herself the wooden hut where they would stay. The fur she was lying on was from a beast she had hunted four months ago. She had built the primitive wooden cradle during many sleepless nights—only the best for her baby. He came at midnight, when the new day and the old one coexisted for a moment. So fitting.

"I name you Aram," she said proudly, holding her crying son in his arms. Elena helped Mel grade the students' tests. She had insisted on doing so, knowing Mel secretly hated it. She did not blame Mel. The young teacher loved these kids, but some of them were a real pain in the ass. There! Peter had done it again. She knew it. She graded his test and wrote a critique in perfect calligraphy. Peter, that was very naughty. You get a B- instead of the A+ this test deserves.

I caught the phonetic limerick you used in the second folio. You know that Mrs. Mel would have been caught in a mind loop for three days if she had attempted to solve it. It is not funny, Peter. It is cruel and inconsiderate. Next time you do something like this, I will explain to you an unbeatable argument on how you should change your name to Petunia. You know I can do it, so don't test my patience. That was Peter. Now she had to grade Maria's test.

She was a sweetie, but she had a philosophical bent and novel ideas about the structure of reality. Her tests tended to spontaneously combust when someone tried to understand them. She heard Mel's voice discussing something with Olana. The elven warrior had been away for only three days, but when she came back, her eyes were those of an older woman. Elena had an eye for these things. She had come back with someone, a tall elven youngster, whom she had introduced as the son of a dear friend.

"She just had another son, and for some reason, she does not want anyone to know," Koji had whispered to her as she gave him his grade.

"She told you?"

"No, I used Occam's razor." Elena tried not to pry, but as a Scion, she had been blessed with acute senses. She could hear the two women talking as if they were standing in front of her.

"But shouldn't he be with his own people?" Mel asked.

"He will never fit in Valdar, Mel. Elven society is very traditional, even though the Queen seems more open to change lately."

"Males sing, cook, take care of the children, create art, and cast magic. Females hunt, kill, and lead. He is an expert hunter and warrior. He will always be an outcast among our people."

"I want him to learn the ways of humanity, so that he may one day teach them to us."

"We are backward, Mel. I do not like it, but that is the way it is." Elena remembered that Olana had once adopted a human child as her own, a sacrilege, according to Elven norms. Not anymore since Alarel adopted Jenna. But Olana had been the first one.

"But who is he going to stay with?"

"I do not need to stay with anyone. I can live outdoors. I can hunt. I can fish. I can kill. The wilds are my home," a new, young voice said.

"Just go with My name is Aram, and I am very happy to be your friend, next time someone asks you. Just as we rehearsed," said Olana's tired voice.

"He is staying with Dignity. She says she misses company," Olana explained.

"Well, we were planning to open a course for high-schoolers this year. Aram would be the first one," Mel said, not too convinced.

"As it is my right. As it is my destiny," Aram answered.

"By the Morrigan's flaming tits! No! Thank you, Mrs. Mel. I am so very grateful for this chance. How hard can this be? Can you stop being such a tomgirl? Can you try to be a little more masculine?" shouted Olana. The conversation lasted five minutes until they reached an agreement. Then the door opened, and Mel, Olana, and a handsome young elf who looked to be a couple of years older than Elena entered the room.

"Peter, stop messing with the timeline, I can see you!" Mel said as soon as she entered. She quickly recovered.

"This is Aram. He is a bit older than you, but he will be the first in our high-school enrollment program. He is also our first Elven student. Please tell him your names and make him feel welcome. I am sure you have lots of questions for him." Koji was raising his hand furiously. Mel nodded to him.

"Hi, my name is Koji. Do you think fate is a cognitive construct created to give a sense of structure to memory?"

"Fate is the refuge of weaker beings who accept being ruled by forces they can't understand. Hi, Koji, I am Aram." Then he looked briefly at Elena, and their gazes locked. Recognition. Two beings not bound by the rules. One born of Essence and Experience. The other, born to a mother who had never had a daughter. Two abominations. Time stopped for a second, and then went on.