Chapter Three
Nicholas went back through the exit and went down the stairs, searching for the infantry sword. He found it on the thirty-fifth floor landing. As he picked it up he felt the buzz.
"So help me Richard," he muttered.
"You're hanging out with Watchers now?" Duncan's voice came from above. He jumped over the railing and landed a few stairs above Nicholas.
Duncan took a swipe with his katana. Nicholas dodged, only seconds from losing his head. He parried several times, dodging as Duncan made several attempts at his head. On Duncan's sixth attempt, Nicholas parried instead of ducking, and thrust the infantry's blade into Duncan's abdomen.
"Ulk," Duncan grabbed the wound and tumbled forward.
Nicholas jumped over the rail, out of his way, and hit the next staircase with a thud. He ran into the thirtieth floor, down the hallway and came to a window overlooking an alley. He caught a glimpse of Richard's Nissan just outside the building, and hoped the boy would be down there by now.
With a deep breath Nicholas took a step back and leapt, smashing through the glass and falling fifty stories down.
Richard ran out of the lobby, to his car parked beside the building. He opened up the driver's side just in time to see his mentor bounce of a garbage dumpster and hit the ground. He flinched and checked around to see if anyone else had seen it. On the east side of the building police were still investigating the accident and the complaints.
Richard drove into the alley and got out. He opened the back door and picked up the sword first, tucking it in the floor space. Then he lifted his mentor's frail and injured body-wincing as he heard the sound of bones snap and move around-and stuffed it in the back seat.
"You're gonna be hurting from this one," he said, holding back a bit of nausea. This would definitely be a story for the Chronicle.
August 10, 2005: Current Timeline
"Not a bad collector's piece," Amanda mused. She held the sword in her hand and took a few practice swings. "A bit lighter than what I'm used to, and it's a bit heavy on the back end."
Duncan stood before the mirror, putting his hair in a ponytail.
"We're not keeping it," he said, plainly. "I want to find out who that immortal's Watcher is, if he has one."
"You're not seriously thinking of handing it over to them are you?" she asked, drawing out the sentence seductively and batting her eyes. "Why not just give it to someone you know and love."
"Forget it," Duncan replied. "You'll just sell it to the highest bidder and spend the money on yourself."
"You say it like it's a bad thing."
Duncan finished buttoning his shirt and gently approached Amanda from behind. He slipped his arms around her delicate body and gently kissed her neck. Suddenly she forgot the sword and dropped it where she stood. She pulled Duncan down on the bed and they spent the morning in gentle bliss.
Later that afternoon Amanda decided to take in some of the sights. Duncan wrapped the sword in souvenir towels that he purchased in the lobby and placed it in the closet. He made some calls and finally found Joe at the summer home of a family member in Austria. Duncan gave Joe a basic description of the immortals involved in the duel and the swords.
"They sound fairly new to the Game," Joe replied. "Most of the seasoned immortals on file are well documented after their first century."
"Well I had a feeling one of them was new," Duncan replied. "He left the body out in the open for anyone to find. It's a wonder CNN isn't all over the place by now."
"Thank God for good old' human indifference," Joe joked, lightly. "I'll get back to you with those watchers as soon as possible."
"Thank you Joe. Have fun with the family."
Duncan left out the part about the tunnel. He didn't want to trouble Joe with something until he knew all of the facts.
After pulling a windbreaker and his outfit for working out Duncan went jogging through Central Park.
The police had been there early this morning, after a homeless man stumbled across the body. Yellow ribbon was set up all over the area and forensics analysts spent hours trying to find incriminating evidence, which Duncan eliminated most of. Even if they found traces of bleach the best they could come up with was a demented serial killer. And God new how many of those lived in New York.
Duncan was careful to avoid the police and jogged over the bridge. A few reporters were standing by the concrete rail, taking pictures of the murder scene and of the damaged lampposts. Determined to have another look at the tunnel, Duncan jogged a few more laps around the park and stopped for lunch while he waited for the police to finish the investigation.
August 10, 2005: Alternate Timeline
"Hey. Hey buddy."
Devon moaned and opened his eyes. He was groggy and suffering from a severe case of cottonmouth.
The smell of seawater and the cold breeze of the ocean surprised him for a second. And as the smell of car fumes and exhaust from the boat engines out at sea rushed his senses he remembered where he was. A police officer stood nearby as Devon sat up from the bench he was sleeping on. His hip was sore from where the sword's hilt jabbed into it, but he figured he'd recover.
"Sorry officer," he said, still groggy.
"Sir, do you know it's against the law to sleep on a bench in the state of New York?" The officer asked. His tone wasn't demanding or angry, just brusque.
"I guess I lost track of myself," Devon said, pulling the coat tighter around him. "I had a rough night last night."
"Do you have some ID on you?"
Devon nodded as he went through his pockets for his wallet. Thank God no one had robbed him, he thought. The officer looked at his driver's license for few minutes.
"Well, this checks out." He said, finally. "I'm gonna let you off with a warning. But next time it's a fine of 500 dollars and some jail time."
"Thank you officer," Devon said, stuffing the wallet in his coat pocket.
When he was alone he started walking along the boardwalk. It was a nightmare. It must have been. The quickening gave him a short jolt from reality and he spent the last night stumbling through New York on a hallucinatory adventure.
Please let that be it, Devon prayed. His memory went back to a training session with his old mentor, the week before he received his sword.
They were standing in a field about a mile from Jason's summer house in Vermont. An apple tree nearby was over run with large gypsy moth nests. A deer pranced in the forests nearby and the choir of birds and crickets accentuated the liveliness of the scene. The sound of metal clanging and men grunting with each thrust broke the natural calm.
Jason Talbot parried Devon's attack and used the momentum to disarm him. He then pressed his blade to Devon's neck.
"You lose," Jason said, with a triumphant grin.
Devon returned the grin, but instead of conceiting defeat, he ducked down and rammed his head into Jason's stomach. Jason lost the grip on his own sword and tumbled to the ground. Mentor and teacher playfully wrestled in the wet grass.
Jason was the better wrestler of the two, having claimed the title at the UVM back in 1932. But he allowed Devon to pin him down once or twice, building the boy's confidence.
"It won't always be this easy," Jason said when he gave in again.
Devon got up and held his hand out to Jason.
"What do you mean easy? I whipped you good."
Jason raised an eyebrow. Then he grabbed Devon's hand and pulled him down, pinning his student on his stomach, and twisting his arm around his back.
"You're confidence can be your undoing," he said. "There are others out there who will let you have the upper hand, if only to find out what you're real strengths are. Then they pull out their real strengths and soon you're missing a head."
Jason didn't let go until he saw Devon understood. Then he stood up while Devon rolled onto his back. Jason held out his hand and received an unexpected shock Devon sat up and pulled his leg out from under him. Startled, Jason sat up and found the blade of Devon's sword pressed to his neck.
"I think I'm learning quickly," Devon said with a smirk.
"Good job," Jason replied, genuinely surprised. He pushed the blade away from him and the two got up. "Why don't we break for a little lunch now?"
Devon nodded eagerly as he sheathed his sword. Then a thought came to him.
"If I took your head- not saying I would but if I did-would I become a champion college wrestler?"
"You might. You'd have my memories and the know-how at least. But knowledge itself isn't power."
Jason put his arm around his student's shoulder as the two walked back towards the house.
"Don't be so eager to win battles," he went on. "The real winner in the Game won't be the one with a thousand heads to his name. It'll be the one who chooses his battles carefully. You'll be just as good a fighter if you avoid taking your opponent's head."
"But what about the quickening?" Devon pressed. "Do you really get all of the other guy's knowledge and memories?"
"Some of them," Jason answered. "I doubt you'd get all of them. And in either case knowledge doesn't equal power. But I can tell you this, there are quickenings that will change you drastically if temporarily. They make you see and do things you wouldn't ordinarily, evil things."
Well, as far as Devon could tell he hadn't done anything remotely evil. Unless stealing the sword of his dead counterpart was considered a big enough sin. Come to think about it-
Devon checked his sides. Both swords were dangling from where he left them. His heart sank as he also saw the World Trade Center where it had always been. Seeing it was a mixture of a joy and sadness. Joy because he knew people who had died that day, and the possibility that they were alive and well now made him happier. But sad because he also knew that whatever did or didn't happen in this world was meant to happen in his, and that it wasn't natural to remain here any longer.
Devon went to a diner for some breakfast. Once he had warm food in his system and a few cups of coffee to awaken his clouded thoughts, he came to a few conclusions, which he jotted down on a napkin with a pencil he borrowed from the waitress;
1: Gavin's Quickening
Devon's (mine?) Quickening
Connection?
2 : Twin Towers exist in this place. Am I in an alternate universe? Was it the quickening that triggered it?
3: Who do I know here? Who can help me? How did I get here in the first place?
4: Did Xavier St. Cloud kill Jason in this world like he did in mine?