Chapter Seven – Faith and Loyalty
"Well…It's all just lore, right? Until it's not."
Gabriel Bowman
The only sounds emanating from Gabriel Bowman's apartment were the keystrokes coming from his laptop. He had closed Talismaniac early since his mind was filled with the questions he was now pursuing in cyberspace. Was there any evidence that the Witchblade had abandoned a true wielder after the Periculum? Would such a wielder survive the abandonment? This question had troubled him most of all, for if Nottingham was right about Sara being a true wielder, then he feared most of all that he would not uncover any evidence that supported his hope that she could survive this test.
Sara had survived the Periculum. This he knew. She could not be a pretender. Could she? With the facts he had uncovered thus far, this point was confusing. What was happening to his friend? Would she pay the ultimate price for wanting to bring justice into this world? After Sara's ordeal with the Periculum, she had come to Gabriel to ask for more information on other wielders' experiences after having survived being infused with the powers of the ancient weapon. She shared that her only thought had been to use the blade to level the playing field…to wield its' power on the side of law and order. Knowing Pez, Gabriel could have predicted that she would have chosen this path for herself. She would not have wanted the weapon for self-serving purposes as a lesser person might have chosen. Sara was not like that. Smiling faintly, his chest swelled with pride as he reflected on her noble nature. He counted himself lucky to call her his friend.
His smile soon faded as a troubled look spread across his angelic face. The more information he found, the more he desperately hoped Nottingham would not ever find the blade…for her sake. He was convinced, with the history that was known, that Sara might die if reunited with the Witchblade after being abandoned by it. The weapon had a mind of its' own, after all. It seemed to him that they were in uncharted territory and there was too much at stake to gamble with Sara's life. Then again, perhaps Sara needed it to survive this ordeal. He shook his head in frustration. The pained expression on his face could not be repressed.
"You do not look happy, Gabriel." Came the quiet voice of Ian Nottingham from a darkened corner of Gabe's apartment.
The younger man jumped as his heart leapt into his throat yet again. At any other time, Gabe might have been impressed with Nottingham's ability to sneak up on a person, but this point was lost as he was forced to swallow his own heart that had lodged itself squarely near his Adam's Apple.
"Damn it, Nottingham. Don't you ever knock…like normal people." With the rush of adrenaline, Gabe had forgotten whom he was addressing. Gabriel could not hide his double take as he wished he could take his words back. Ian allowed himself a glimmer of a smile at the young man's brashness.
"You know what they say about old habits, young Bowman."
The assassin kept his eyes on Gabe as he walked around the room, admiring the various Celtic artifacts, wondrous books, and sundry other displays throughout his living room. Gabriel's room had his distinctive imprint on it. It was filled with interesting relics and photos of his family, such a stark contrast to Ian's own room that was so sterile, giving not a clue as to the personality of its' inhabitant. The reality of a normal life taunted him by comparison.
As Nottingham moved about the room, Gabriel also had his own observations. The man looked tired. The dark circles under his eyes gave testament to his many sleepless nights. His eyes were alert as always, but a pervasive sadness could not be hidden. And another key item had not gone unnoticed by the younger entrepreneur. Old habits were indeed hard to break, Gabe thought.
"Interesting ring you have there, Nottingham. Do you mind if I see it?" Ian turned his head, then looked downward at the silver ring on his right hand.
It had been a gift from his now estranged father many years ago. He had worn it on his right hand over the dark, leather gloves that were his constant companions. He had only known it as Excaliber, knowing that it was forged from the same iron as the Witchblade itself. There was a connection to the blade he had yet to fully understand…but then again, Ian Nottingham was a patient man. He turned and walked slowly toward Gabriel, extending his right hand cautiously, taut and ready for action. Force of habit would not allow Nottingham to relax, even though he wanted to trust Gabriel.
"Oh my god…this is Excaliber, isn't it?" Gabriel asked, not taking his eyes off the large, elaborately carved silver ring. Nottingham pulled his hand back in surprise, a threatening look slowly spread across his face.
"How do you know about my ring?" He asked, the coldness back in his eyes reminded Gabriel of the tenuous nature of their alliance. The young man proceeded with caution.
"It's my job to know about Objects of Power. Just found it interesting…when I discovered references to it in my research on the Gauntlet for Sara…a while back. Like the Witchblade, it's an icon of reputed power. It's legendary, man." Gabe gave a weak smile and a casual shrug, trying to lighten the tension in the room.
Nottingham slowly lowered his eyes, diffusing the situation. After being given the ring by Irons, Ian had wondered about its' significance…had tried to secretly find information on it, knowing his father never did anything without an agenda. There were no coincidences in Irons' world…or his own. He was reminded of the moment his father had given him the ring during the summer of his twenty-first year. It had been just before he was to join the Special Forces Unit called the Black Dragons.
Kneeling at his Irons' feet, in front of the hearth in the Great Room, Ian remembered that he had smiled upon him with pride as he sat in his favorite chair, as if it were a throne. Nottingham had survived his master's many tests and had undergone the painful chemical treatments and genetics enhancements so that he may better serve his father.
Irons handed a small box wrapped in silver paper to his protégé saying "You have reached the age of majority, young Nottingham. From hence forward, if you choose to accept this gift, it shall be a sign of your undying loyalty to me."
Ian eagerly unwrapped the gift and opened the small box, looking upon the exquisitely carved ring for the first time. "It is magnificent, father. I would be honored to wear it…in service to you." Nottingham placed the ring on his right hand over his leather gloves.
His father added, "This ring cannot be worn by anyone bearing the sign of the Witchblade." His master touched the circled scar on his hand that had been burned into his flesh at the time of his brief exposure to the blade before he continued. "So I am bestowing it upon you, young Nottingham. Continue to do my bidding…and you shall be allowed to keep this gift as a gesture of your devotion to me."
As quickly as the memory had flashed in his mind, it was gone. For a fleeting moment, he had harbored hopes of finding the knowledge on Excaliber that he had sought all these years, through Gabriel, but that would be selfish, he thought. Before he could speak of this, Gabriel was eager to continue.
"There is a theory that the ring Excaliber was forged from the very metal used to create the Witchblade. Some say the material may not be of this world, but others claim it is from a similar iron used in making the ancient weapons of Iran. In Avesta, an ancient prayer book of Persian Zorastrians, it was believed to be an iron-alloy similar in composition to the Gauntlet." Gabriel knew he had Nottingham's attention so he persisted.
"Throughout history, there have been tales of weapons with supernatural powers. The one I found most interesting centered around the Mistress of the Blade who went by the name of Banrighinn." Gabriel's use of this name caught Ian by surprise. He was speaking of the woman in his dream.
"What do you know of Banrighinn?" Nottingham could not help but think that Gabriel's mention of this warrior had not been coincidental. He must know more.
"All I know is that this Mistress of the Blade led a legion of male and female wielders that she had been handpicked and taught the ancient ways of battle. As with most tales of men and women, however, Banrighinn put an end to the whole thing after becoming angry with a lover, one of the warrior knights. After that, no man was ever allowed to handle the blade. That's the legend anyway…and I'm stickin' to it." Gabe smiled but he could see that Nottingham had a reason for finding this information helpful. He had grown quiet and seemed to be deep in thought.
Nottingham was sure that Banrighinn had spoken to him in his dream but for what purpose? She had spoken of evil…and had asked him to help the wielder. He had thought of little else but helping his beloved. Right now, he needed to focus on nothing but Sara. Perhaps he would seek Gabriel's help in the future regarding the ring…if he had a future. Without Sara, there was no hope for him.
"Perhaps we can talk more about Excaliber on another occasion, Gabriel. My time is running short. I need to impart some information for you to share with my…with Sara." Ian's voice was as quiet and respectful as Gabe had ever heard it. It had surprised him.
Nottingham stood in a modified military fashion in front of the young man as if he were reporting for duty. In his customary long black coat and black turtleneck and pants, his head was bowed with his hands behind his back, boots set apart. His long dark hair was worn loose, now falling forward covering much of his face. Gabriel could not imagine this man giving himself so unconditionally to Kenneth Irons. His devotion to the wielder of the Witchblade must be formidable to even conceive of such an act of loyalty.
"Please communicate to Sara that I draw nearer the blade with every waking hour. I have gotten the names and possible locations of the homeless people that were in the alley that night. I believe that one of them has the Gauntlet in his possession." Nottingham conveyed.
"Why don't you think the police took it into custody…as evidence? Or maybe it's still in the alley…somewhere." Gabe puzzled.
"I have searched every inch of that alley. If it were there, I would have found it. Let's just say that I would know if I were close enough to it."
Ian was not sure how he knew this to be true but his restless nights of late had been filled with unexplained images of a bright light, cutting through the darkness, leading him to the blade. The visions had been a nightly occurrence since he had left the control of Kenneth Irons. He had learned long ago to trust his instincts on the ancient weapon for he was connected to its' destiny as surely as he was joined to Sara's. Gabriel already feared him, he knew. Nottingham suspected Gabe would not understand this revelation so he chose to keep it to himself for now.
Gabriel suspected that Nottingham was being evasive, but seemed to still be forthcoming with the information for Sara. Gabe had to trust that his cryptic nature was also discerning when to share the important stuff. Gabe nodded and let Ian continue.
"I also ruled out the police having it. It seems Captain Dante was willing to share that bit of information with me." Ian looked up slightly with a sly smile, barely noticeable.
"What do you mean he was willing to share? Captain Dante? The man does not work well and play well with others, Nottingham." Gabe questioned.
"Let's just say that he was laid bare…He hid nothing from me. It seems when faced with his own mortality…Captain Dante communicates quite effectively, young Bowman." This was as close to a joke as Gabriel had ever witnessed coming from the infamous Nottingham. One day, Gabe hoped he would be considered Nottingham's friend enough to hear what had really happened with Dante. He suspected it might be worth the wait.
"This is one of those times when I shouldn't ask any more questions, right?" Gabe grinned sheepishly and continued trying to break down Nottingham's formality.
"Guess if you told me…you'd have to kill me." Gabe chuckled, but abruptly stopped when Nottingham only stared intensely into his eyes, unwavering. Before Gabe could make a further fool of himself, Nottingham nodded with a spark of amusement in his eyes. The look on the younger man's face was priceless. The humor was a brief respite from Ian's ongoing torment of late.
Gabe let out his breath, hoping to soon find a comfort level in his dealings with Nottingham. His heart couldn't stand the strain of many more instances of Ian's brand of humor. The only thing worse than an assassin with a sense of humor…is an assassin without one, Gabe thought.
"Let's just say that there are times I really like what I do." Nottingham added with a shy smile that quickly faded. "I also paid a visit to my…my former employer Kenneth Irons. It seems he may not be as easily dissuaded from harming Sara as Bruno Dante. I believe Captain Dante has seen the light, but my father shall not be so accommodating." The small joy that had been in Nottingham's eyes was now gone when he was forced to think of his father.
"Look…I know you may not want to talk about this, but why are you now so willing to help Sara instead of a man that you think of as your father?" Gabe needed to understand this. He sat back on a stool, awaiting Ian's answer. It took many moments of silence for Nottingham to find the right words.
"He forced me to choose…between serving him…or giving my life in service to my…to Sara, as the wielder of the blade." Nottingham turned away, trying to find his thoughts.
"You love her…don't you, Nottingham?" It was such a simple question, yet it took Ian by surprise that the young man had discovered the truth so quickly.
"It does not matter, Gabriel. I have sworn my life in service to the wielder. Beyond that, I have nothing else to offer her." Gabriel knew these words pained Ian. His evasive answer did not satisfy Gabe but the younger man was willing to let Nottingham off the hook as Ian continued.
"Gabriel…if Dante is out of the picture, that does not mean the White Bulls will not be called upon to follow Irons' orders. Someone deeper within the organization may act in Dante's stead. Please beware…and ask Sara to do the same. These are contemptuous men without scruples." Ian warned.
Gabe found it ironic that Nottingham had seemingly high standards regarding personal integrity and ethics for an assassin.
"Look…I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings but I have been researching the history of the Witchblade…trying to find out if this abandonment thing has ever happened to a wielder after the Periculum." Gabe just shook his head in response to the questioning and hopeful look he now got from Nottingham. Discouraged, Nottingham's eyes lowered as Gabriel continued.
"She may not survive this, Ian. We have to face that fact. I'm not so sure it is the best thing to find the blade and give it back to her…but I'm also not sure that keeping it from her will save her either. I just don't know. It seems this may be a first in wielder history. We may be making history, Ian." Gabe wasn't sure he should be calling the man by his first name but it seemed natural…and Nottingham did not seem to mind. He was wrapped up in his feelings for Sara.
"Every fiber in my being tells me to find the blade and return it to the true wielder, Gabriel. I have to trust my instincts…just as you have to research this…and continue to be her friend." The men stared at one another, each firm in their own resolve.
"What if Sara is not a true wielder, Ian? I am her friend. I will protect her no matter which way this goes, but you…what will you do? You've told me you have been in training to serve the true wielder, right? What if Sara is only a pretender?" Gabe pleaded his case. Nottingham did not answer for a long while. His voice was low and measured when he finally broke the silence.
"My heart will not allow such doubt to enter it. She is an ancient soul...one that I have known well beyond my years in this lifetime. I know her, Gabriel. I have prepared my whole life for her coming. I knew her the instant my eyes were graced by her beauty and strength." Ian had closed his eyes, recalling Sara's lovely face in more pleasant times. Her smile could warm his heart.
Gabriel had such thoughts before of Sara being something ancient. She was not of this world. Of that, he was certain. It seemed he was not alone in this assessment for Nottingham had felt it too. This may be more due to Nottingham being a kindred spirit, for he was not of this world either, Gabe thought.
If he had any doubts before now, Gabriel knew that Irons' assassin was deeply in love with Sara, the wielder. There was no room for doubt in this man's mind. Gabe had to admire such faith…such devotion. Yet, there was a reality here that he could not dismiss.
"From what I have found out, Ian…I am not so sure I want you to be successful in finding the blade for Sara. If she is a pretender, she may not survive it." He said softly, knowing Ian would not want to hear his thoughts on the subject. It took Nottingham a moment to continue, his only thoughts were of her.
"How is she holding up, Gabriel? Have you talked to her?" Ian had witnessed her self destruction with his own eyes but wanted to hear a first hand account of his beloved's torment, hoping he had been mistaken about the depth of her suffering.
"I'm gonna see her later tonight. Haven't seen her since the attempt on her life." Gabe knew this would not satisfy Ian's anguish over Sara's condition. If Gabe had loved anyone the way Nottingham loved Sara, it would be hell on earth to sit by and watch her fall apart…or perhaps loose her battle for life by the very thing Ian would be returning to her.
Gabriel knew in that revelation that Ian would not survive this test if Sara died as a result of his actions. He would not be able to live with that. Two lives were at risk here if Sara could not survive this, Gabe thought. So much was at stake to be so uncertain. He wished he had an ounce of Ian's blind faith, but then again, perhaps his resolve came from denial…denial that Sara could be anything but a true wielder.
The two men were deep in their own introspection but continued to hold eye contact. Each knew that Nottingham would be compelled to find the Witchblade for Sara, believing her to be the true wielder, and Gabriel might be forced to pick up the pieces of his friend's shattered life…if she had one left after this ordeal.
The gravity of their undertaking had been communicated in that one moment of realization between them. Their lives…and Sara's would be forever changed.