David
It took the best part of two whole weeks before we finally got the all clear to meet with William; the name they had given him all those years ago had stuck.
We had emailed, phoned, and jumped through all sorts of hoops before we had gotten the go ahead.
Our biggest issue had been proving that we were in no way affiliated with the press. “The rights of the patient were of paramount importance given that the state had taken responsibility for his well being,” the doctor had stated.
Nonsense, I thought. His story had already been published, and the book’s author had been allowed to meet with William.
Eventually though it was all settled, the doctor had agreed to allow us to meet with William, but had also reiterated several times that we would be wasting our time and money; William had not spoken in almost twenty years and, in his opinion, nothing we could do or say would make him talk now.
Alex dogged me every step of the way. Don’t get me wrong she was a great help, but there was no way she was going to let me out of her sight to go to the States on my own.
“I’m coming and absolutely nothing you can do will stop me,” she had said, and her tone and the look she gave had brooked no argument.
Alex told her manager that she needed a few days leave. He was furious at the extremely short notice, but there was little short of sacking Alex that would have stopped her, and he knew it; he also knew that she was far too good to loose.
That was yesterday, and now we were sat in economy, on an American Airlines flight out of Manchester heading for New York. I’d never been to the States before and was really surprised at the paperwork required. Getting my ESTA done, had been a real last minute panic.
Alex had hers, she had renewed it once already and had still never been to the USA. “It’s somewhere I always wanted to go one day, and I didn’t want the last minute fuss that you’ve just had,” she’d said defensively when I quizzed her over it.
The flight was long and uneventful. We used the time to go over and over how we would approach the meeting with William. Initially, I explained to Alex how I wanted the meeting to go, how I would speak to William in the Common Tongue, talking of Ellas using words, phrases and place names that I prayed he would recognise. She was to sit quietly and watch for any signs of recognition.
Oh, I would be looking too, looking hard, but I wanted Alex to feel useful and, who knows, she might just spot something I missed. As we discussed the detail of what I would say, Alex came up with an idea, and I had to hand it to her it was good.
Instead of me, she would be the one to start off the meeting. She would speak for ten minutes or so, and when it was obvious that William was bored and starting to ignore us, I would step in and start speaking to him in what we hoped was his native tongue. That way, any signs of understanding he showed should be written all over his face as he was, hopefully, shocked out of his boredom. At least that was the theory.
We picked up the hire car and Alex drove. I’d never driven on the wrong side of the road before, but even more importantly, I was ten years out of practice; I’d hardly driven at all since I was back; it was one of the few things that frightened me. Laughable really, given what I had seen and done in my years away. Alex was turning out to be a godsent, and I told her so.
That earned me a big smile, quickly followed by a playful thump as she said, “You’d better not be trying anything on. It’ll take more than some macho dark assassin to impress me." Then, as she saw the look of embarrassment on my face, she burst out laughing. And, after a few seconds of listening to her almost split her sides at my discomfort, I could not help but join her; it felt good.
We reached the hospital, or Treatment Centre as it was locally referred to, early the next morning. We had stayed overnight in a small motel a few miles away; separate rooms, so obviously my ‘trying it on’ was having no effect at all.
We spoke with Doctor Jefferson for almost an hour. He laid out the ground rules and quizzed us yet again about our interest, and why we thought we might be able to help his patient. Originally we thought that we might say we were following up stories of alien abductions, researching a book we were writing and that William’s story had piqued our interest. But that had already been done once, and on reflection we agreed that any such story wouldn’t get us through the door as it seemed that the last book had somehow caused some issues for the hospital.
We spent quite a while trying to think up something convincing, something that the doctor could verify that would hold up to scrutiny.
Then, out of the blue, it came to me – just tell the truth. Or at least the version of the truth that I had told the world – I had gone missing for a whole year and had come back with no memory of where I had been or what happened to me. Then, while researching other disappearances, I had, quite by accident, come across the book that contained William’s story. The name ‘Darganu’ and something about the William’s story had struck a chord with me, and I just had to meet with him to see if there was anything in his story that would shed light on what had happened to me. Obviously all that I had said was verifiable, and if allowing me to speak with William helped me, then that would be a feather in the hospital’s cap. So, from the doctor’s perspective, he was doing this more in an attempt to help me, because he really did not believe that I could be of any help to William.
I went over it all again for the doctor in my most pleading tone; he had obviously thoroughly researched my disappearance, and appeared to genuinely want to help if he could. He said that we would be allowed to speak with William for half an hour, but if William showed any signs of anxiety or irritation the session would be cut short. No staff would be present in the room, but an orderly would be just outside should he be needed, and there was a panic button should we feel threatened.
Finally, we were led into a quite small meeting room, more like a lounge area really. Two large couches were placed obliquely facing each other about four feet apart. An armchair was placed, almost as if to dominate the room, facing both couches. I guessed that would be where the doctor would sit in group therapy sessions.
If not for the positioning of the armchair it looked almost cosy. We were directed to sit on the one couch and the doctor left to get William. The next few moments dragged by, feeling much longer than the flight and the two hour drive combined. We had agreed not to speak should we be left alone. Why? I wasn’t sure, but the need for mistrust and suspicion that the years had instilled in me were great to shake off.
The door opened, and an orderly came in followed by William, who walked slowly, favouring his one leg, as he seemed to steady himself on the walking stick he held. Strange, I thought, how he was allowed such an item when he was said to have violent moods swings. But I dismissed the thought as the orderly ushered him to the couch opposite us and, using shackles, restrained his one wrist to a lock point that was built into the arm of the sofa.
The doctor had warned us of the need to restrain William, but Alex still looked really upset by it. While they did this the doctor sat in the armchair as if he intended to stay, but we had been through this too. He wanted William to think this was yet another interview with research or medical staff from another institute, and the doctor always presided over those without exception. William never had any other visitors, the exception being the author a year or two back, and the doctor had sat in on that meeting too.
I took in all his physical details in the first few seconds, something that had been driven into me in those tortuous months of conditioning – Watch everyone, miss nothing. Know your enemy. Know your victim. William was nothing special. Middle aged, fifty or so, slim build, about six feet with thick blond hair starting to grey slightly at the sides, and surprisingly, left long almost down to his shoulders. All in all average, but for his eyes. His eyes were blue, a blue so very bright that memories of Anna and Setia flooded my mind. That single exception to William’s average appearance filled me with hope.
His apparent age gave further food for thought. Records showed that he had been confined almost twenty years ago, so he would have been in his thirties then. But the doctor had said that photographs, and confirmation from some of the older staff, seemed to suggest that during his incarceration William’s appearance had changed very little, if at all.
The doctor introduced us to William and gave an overview of why we wanted to speak with him, speaking slowly, emphasising every word and using a great deal of gestures to try and reinforce what he said. It all seemed rather over the top, almost as if it was really for our benefit, as William’s face gave no hint of understanding or caring for any of what the doctor said.
William did look us over when the doctor first gestured to us. He glanced at Alex ever so briefly, paused over me for a long moment, and then casually turned back to the doctor seeming to dismiss us both completely. There was a haughtiness about him, it was slight but it was there. It seemed to me that he was someone who was used to respect, deference even; we were beneath him.
Strange that I should reach such conclusions in mere seconds, but there was no denying it; now that I had noticed it, it became apparent in his every mannerism.
The doctor spoke for a few moments longer, and then explained that he was going to leave us alone. He ushered out the orderly, who had been standing almost at attention beside the door, and left in his wake. William’s face was a picture. Clearly he had not expected this; he’d never been left unsupervised before and was quite off balance.
We both watched him intently for those few seconds, neither of us speaking. Eventually, Alex cleared her throat and began to speak to William, following the script we had agreed earlier on the plane and refined further in the long car journey.
At first William seemed to try to follow what she said, but before long it was apparent from his posture, body language and lack of eye contact, that he had lost interest completely and seemed to be getting more than a little impatient with us, wanting us to finish and leave. After a few moments more of the scripted boring chatter, Alex stopped quite suddenly and looked to me questioningly.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
This is as good a time as any her eyes seemed to say. I nodded slightly and turning to William, I stood.
“Qw’e la trang qu’l minsa drang?” – What was the name of the world you fled? I asked in the Common Tongue, and after a slight pause, added, “Qe Ellas, la minsa crustel de’la Dar’cen?” – Was it Ellas, the world destroyed by Dar'cen?
If he was off balance by the doctor’s leaving, now he was in total shock. All the colour drained from his face, his eyes bulged and his hands immediately began to shake.
He tried to rise and the restraint held him, but I stepped forward in front of him anyway, blocking him.
Seeing the fear on his face was not at all what I had expected; I had thought to see surprise, shock perhaps, but not fear and outright terror. Agitated did not even begin to describe how he was, he was frantic, frantic with fear.
Remembering what the doctor had said, I realised that I needed to calm him down or the session would be terminated, but what had I said that frightened him? Looking at the sheer terror on his face, it came to me; I too had known the terror he now felt, and I knew without a shadow of doubt what drove this man’s fear. Twenty years ago he told the police that he had escaped from the demon, Darganu – he now believed that he has been found, and that we were here for him; that Dar'cen had sent us. I blurted it all out to Alex so that she understood, “He thinks that Dar'cen has found him. He thinks I am here to take him back, kill him or worse."
Quickly I spoke again to William, “Dar’cen na forta ae.” – Dar’cen has not sent us. “El n’lonte a, el n’nemi a mor.” – He has not found you, he does not know you are here. “A’l uste, w’l marase” – You are safe, we are friends. And then, without breaking eye contact, I slowly stepped away from him and sat back on the couch opposite.
William sat speechless for several moments, eyes wide, his face flushed and his breathing ragged. He had not spoken for almost twenty years, but now I could see that he really was at a loss for words. He wanted to speak but no words would come to him. We watched silently as he composed himself.
Slowly, ever so slowly, his control returned – his breathing slowed, colour returned to his face, and a haughtiness again became apparent in his posture and demeanour as he sat more upright. I did nothing, I said nothing, I only held my breath as I waited for him to speak, waited for the confirmation that I knew must come. The confirmation that I so desperately needed to hear.
Finally he tried to speak, but no words emerged, only a dry and rasping sound. Alex understood immediately and poured water into a beaker and handed it to him. William slowly sipped the water, but his eyes never left mine. When the beaker was nearly drained, he finally spoke. His voice was barely above a whisper, and his eyes were still locked on mine.
“Quis a, crond’o a tapa te’s tepio?” – Who are you, and how do you speak my language? “Qw’o a ref’t te?” – What do you want of me? “A tapa ha’l na forta a, crond’i nema a?” – You say that he has not sent you, but how can I believe you? “Quis ma lonteri te lota?” – Who else would seek me out?
While he blurted out his questions, I could see from the corner of my eye that Alex was having difficulty keeping a grin off her face. I knew that she could not understand William’s words, but she would know from the panic in his voice and his body language, that he really was who we had hoped for. But her delight was short lived because, as his questions trailed off, tears streaked down William’s face and he began to sob and shake uncontrollably.
Before I could even think of what to do, Alex had crossed to his couch and sat next to him, her arm around his sagging shoulders, comforting him with such a gentle and soothing voice that he could not fail to understand her meaning and feel her compassion.
Slowly, ever so slowly, William stopped crying and looked at Alex, and this time there was no dismissal in that look. Very hesitantly, yet in in fluent English, he said, “Thank you, Alex. You are most kind."
Alex beamed at him, and I knew that with those few kind words she at least, had gained his trust.
No more than that was said, as the doctor returned. Our time was up and he did not want to task William, he said.
Then it was the doctor’s turn to be shocked, for as William was unshackled, he looked up to the doctor and asked if we might be allowed to visit him again in the morning. The doctor’s face was an absolute picture, a mix of surprise, shock and genuine elation. And yet Alex and I too must have shown some signs of surprise, for William’s words were spoken as if he had lived in New York his entire life. After getting over his initial shock, the doctor had immediately agreed to our return the following day. He then walked off with William, firing question after question, and to his utter astonishment, getting answers.
###
William
By the Gods I am so very afraid the man named William thought. For over twenty years I have lived my life in fear, fear of this day, a day that I knew must come. Yet this fear, this fear that fills me still, is worse than I have felt in all those years. Not since I fled him have I felt such fear. I was afraid when the writer came. Harrison. Yes, that was his name. But he was a buffoon, he wanted nothing but to profit from what he would write. He knew nothing of me, cared nothing for me, thought of me as just another deranged patient with a fantasy. I told him nothing, spoke not a word, as I have not spoken in this place until this very day. But he wrote his story anyway, all based on what I foolishly said all those years ago in a drunken frenzy. And his story led them here to me. Fool that I was. I should have killed Harrison as he sat before me imploring me to tell my tale.
These two are altogether a different matter. Who are they? Are they who they claim? As they seem? The woman, Alex, I could almost trust. She is kind, thoughtful… but I have been fooled by such before, trusted, listened to kind words and believed those words. Never again!
The man David terrifies me He has the look, he has known true fear, he has seen terror. But is he what he says he is, or has he come for me, been sent for me? Tomorrow will tell. I have hidden away here long enough, too long perhaps.
Tears flowed down the face of the man known only as William, and he knew that sleep would not come to him that night. He knew also that he should refuse to see them again, and force them to show their hand, force them to show who they really were. But he was tired of it all, tired of the hiding, tired of the fear, and so very tired of the waiting.
If they are who they say they are, then perhaps there is some hope. Perhaps they can help, but even as he thinks those thoughts, darker memories fill him with the fear again, fill him with dread – If they are from him, then all is lost. There can be no hiding if he has touched this world.
The man William sits upright, steels himself. “I will not give in,” he says aloud. “I will not give up hope… I will see them tomorrow, hear what they have to say, and decide then. But if they are from him they will not take me; that I will not allow. I will die long before that day ever comes again.”
###
David
That evening Alex and I were both on a high, the first in weeks. As we excitedly talked about what this meant for our search and my eventual return, Alex surprised me by expressing her wish to come with me to Ellas.
“I have thought about nothing else since I heard your story,” she said. “At first it was just a continuation of a little girl’s fantasies, but as I came to believe what you said, really believe, I realised that it was what I wanted to do… something that I had to do. You do not believe in coincidences, and I am not sure that I do, either. But I do believe in fate… something brought us together, and it could not have just been coincidence. Then, there is this woman Carthia… again that cannot just be a coincidence, the name on its own perhaps, but you said that she looks just like me, just like Sarah would have looked, too. It’s no coincidence, it cannot be. This is fate, and there must be something that links all these so called coincidences together, and that something must be on Ellas. I’m convinced of it. And so, I just have to come with you… I owe it to Sarah to get to the bottom of it all."
There was no arguing with her, she was coming with me when I found a way back, no matter what I said. The best I could do was get her to compromise by keeping her job – she wanted to jack it in now, and just not return to work at all. Thankfully, I managed to convince her to change her mind on that; at least until we had something much more concrete, some real evidence that there was a way to travel back to Ellas.
Doctor Jefferson met us personally in the hospital reception the following morning absolutely bubbling over with excitement at William talking after all the years of silence.
The doctor had spent some time with William after Alex and I left, and, he said excitedly, that William had spoken freely of his upbringing in New York.
He went on to say that William had even promised to cooperate fully with him on the sole condition that we be given unlimited access to him – William wanted to meet with us every day, the doctor said. Surprisingly, the doctor didn’t ask why William should impose such a condition, he just didn’t seem to care. All thought of helping solve the mystery of my disappearance was lost to the doctor, replaced instead by his eagerness to solve the riddle that was William.
Over the next few days each session grew slightly longer as we became more familiar with each other. William obviously looked forward to seeing us, especially Alex; he now smiled at her when he was brought in, and had more of a spring to his step.
Even though the conversations primarily took place between William and myself, he and Alex built upon that hesitant “Thank you.” Some form of bond was forming between them, I could see it in William’s eyes and in his tone when he asked the odd question of her, Who was she? How did she know me, and how was she involved?
William had, and I was sure it was solely for Alex’s benefit, decided that all conversation should be conducted in english. Even so, during the sessions Alex said very little. Mostly she would just sit and listening, only occasionally jumping in with remarks and questions highlighting inconsistencies and gaps in William’s tale. Amazingly, she seemed to keep William at ease by somehow responding to every change of tone or facial expression he made with an appropriate smile, frown or grimace, that always somehow seemed just right – I don’t know how she did it.
Travelling back to the motel and in the evenings, we would review all that we had heared, and occasionally Alex would excitedly make some comment or other about what had been said – “Ah, I didn’t really understand what he was talking about at that point, but now it makes sense, that’s where his look changed ever so slightly, and you shocked him,” or “I am not sure if he was telling the whole truth then, his face took on a really shifty, devious look."
It was so very strange. Alex was somehow able to interpret William’s every mannerism. She said that as she listened and watched William, subconsciously she analysed what he said, how he said it, and all that his face and body did as he spoke – a twist of his mouth, a widening of his eyes or the slightest of twitches even, somehow gave her a deeper insight into the words William had spoken, to revealing hidden meaning or even an outright lie.
Her perception and insight of what was really meant behind William’s words was absolutely amazing. With her input it was so much easier to decide what to follow up on, what to drill deeper into, or steer clear of during the days that followed. Yet again she proved to be a godsent.
It took most of the first two days to get Lacom, that was William’s real name, to open up and begin to tell us anything approaching the truth, his name even.
Before that, he had held back, given half truths and in some cases telling complete fabrications – he was obviously still very afraid, and not completely at ease with me.
But then, I had only given him the barest sketch of who I was and my story – I had been abducted by Nargu, spent a few years in captivity, escaped and found my way home by using a travelling rod I had stolen. No mention of my role as Dar'cen’s servant, and no real explanation of how I had escaped.
Mention of the travelling rod had obviously piqued his interest though; it was only the briefest of motions but his eyes had widened for an instant. I had seen it, and didn’t need to wait for Alex’s confirmation that night.