The Betrothed
Part 33
Anthony and Patrick quickly left the lights of the Little Five Points neighborhood behind, the strip on both side of the road descending into shadow. This made Anthony nervous – not because he feared being accosted by unseen assailants, but because he feared missing Darrick in the dark, especially if he were lying hurt or unconscious somewhere off the road. He considered calling for the missing man, but didn’t know if he would come towards them or run away, so he decided to remain inconspicuous, trusting to his own vigilant eyesight to spot the runaway. Looking at Patrick, though, he saw that his son did not share his dedication; instead of constantly scanning the shadows, he walked with head down and arms crossed, deliberate in his inattention.
“Stay alert, Patrick,” he ordered. “I need your pair of eyes. Your sister’s life is riding on this.” Patrick mumbled something underneath his breath. Anthony couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was unmistakable. “What was that?” he asked, his own tone brooking no denial.
“I said, what’s the fucking point?” Patrick spat out, each word emphasized clearly. “You can give me all that crap about taking care of the people you love, but we both know that’s a load of bullshit. It. Doesn’t. Matter. Anymore. We’re all going to die in the next few hours, so why should I spend my time trying to find the mongrel who stole my sister away and then killed her by running away himself?”
Anthony cursed the Command Richard had laid on him. If I could only tell Patrick that this isn’t necessarily the end, that saving Darrick would be saving ourselves. He’d cooperate then. Surely he’d cooperate then?
“You’ll do it because I’m your father,” Anthony said, resorting to the only method that showed consistent success. “I’m your father, and you are still unmarried. Do as your told, and hopefully I’ll be able to explain later.”
Patrick stopped still, raising his gaze to stare his father full in the face.
“No,” he said simply and firmly. “I refuse to waste the last few hours of my life searching for that half-breed. I want to spend my final moments with Elizabeth, the woman you chose for me to spend the rest of my life with, but your dragging me off to this outsider warren has robbed me of that opportunity. So I will find some place to be alone, so I can spend my life with the only true and pure Atlantean in this city. Myself.”
“Stop right there,” Anthony ordered as Patrick turned. Most likely out of habit than anything else, Patrick stopped. “You will spend your last remaining moments with your family, trying to save your sister’s life. Or does your Atlantean family mean so little to you?”
“My sister became an outsider the moment you bonded her to that . . . that thing,” Patrick snarled over his shoulder. “It’s only fitting that she die here.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Anthony said, his anger with this monster in the shape of his son overwhelming his control. “When did you become this hateful, bigoted person? Is it Elizabeth? We didn’t teach you to be like this!”
Patrick spun back to face his father, his own features livid. “This is exactly what you taught me. You taught me that the outside world is a dangerous, corrupt, wicked place. That Atlanteans have to remain separate so that we won’t lose who we are and become just like them. That we have to live in the outside world, but we can never be of it. And you were right! Just because you bonded my sister to some half-breed degenerate because you wanted his name doesn’t change the truth.” He pointed an accusing finger, shaking slightly from emotion. Anthony had to fight to keep himself from flinching. “You’ve left the true Atlantean path, not me. So don’t ask me where I learned it. Ask yourself when you forgot it.”
“And does Abigail deserve to die to preserve your purity?” Anthony demanded.
“Abigail made her own choices,” Patrick said, turning away once more. “I didn’t force her. You can’t blame me if she suffers the consequences for them. Though I’m sure you’ll try.” He walked briskly away, leaving Anthony to stand staring into the darkness. He knew there was no point in trying to follow. Patrick’s made his choice. I only hope he lives long enough to regret it.
Richard and John made their way slowly back towards the boarding house, all the way hoping to spy Darrick’s form, either somewhere along the road or curled up along the side. They walked slowly, and by the time they stepped onto the road leading to their destination, the eastern sky was starting to lighten with twilight. Soon, it would be time for everyone to meet again, Richard realized, heart sinking. No one had called. That meant Darrick had not yet been found.
Richard had a hard time looking at John, who was expending all his attention on the search, calling out his son’s name and occasionally veering off the road to examine a particularly dark shadow just in case it might be hiding Darrick’s inert form. He had barely spoken a full sentence to Richard the entire night, and Richard wasn’t surprised. He could feel the tension between them. Eventually, he had to say something.
“I’m terribly sorry for what happened to your son, Mr. Knight,” he said. “As a father myself, I understand what you must be going through. But rest assured, if we find him, I will do all I can to heal him.”
“I should hope so,” was John’s distracted reply. “You’re the reason he’s like this, after all.”
“I didn’t tell your son to run away,” Richard said, hurt by the accusation. “Had he approached me on the matter, I would have encouraged the opposite.”
“No, you just used him as a tool in your own grandiose plans,” John replied. “Next time you try to bring world peace, could you leave my son out of it?” The sarcasm, Richard felt, was deeply unfair.
“Mr. Knight, I did not make your son who he is,” he said, a calm reminder of basic facts. “He would have determined the course of the world no matter what I did. I was simply doing what I could to make his path as pleasant as possible.”
“By using a magic you didn’t fully understand,” John answered, as angrily as he could while still devoting his attention to the search. “You said yourself that you should have studied more when you were younger. But you still had no problems using it on Darrick, because you just assumed you knew better. You set the whole thing up behind the scenes, certain that you knew what was best for everyone. For the entire world! How arrogant is that? Did you ever think that, maybe, he would be happier living the life he chose, instead of the one you chose for him?”
“You agreed to it at the time.” John deflated a bit at the reminder.
“For my wife’s sake. I didn’t realize it would spell the end of our marriage, even if it did take twenty years.” He turned his face away, but Richard could hear his grief.
“I’m very sorry for that as well,” he said. “A bonding is supposed to bring families together, not tear them apart.”
“Strange to hear that, seeing as how tearing families apart is one of the things you people do best.”
“I don’t know what you are saying. The family is all-important to us. That’s why the bond is so important. It guarantees healthy families. Or at least helps them tremendously.” Richard thought of his own bond, of the many joyous years he had spent with his wife, united beyond normal human comprehension. Yes, he thought. The bond is a good thing. I cannot believe Darrick would have been happier without it.
“So all-important that you tear them apart?” John asked incredulously. “Maybe you don’t realize what that does to the ones you send off on their own, to live in that outside world you spend their entire childhood teaching them to avoid. Cutting them off must make it easy to pretend that they’ll do just fine.” He was getting angrier with each word, his diction becoming clipped and forceful. “But I watched what your exile did to my wife year after year. I watched her battle loneliness, depression, a sense of abandonment and distrust that I could never get through. But you must have trained her well, because she never took it out on you, never said ‘To hell with those people who threw me away and everything they stand for’. No, she took it out on her true family, the one who chose her out of love, instead of chasing her away out of fear. Me.” He fell silent once more, glaring off into the night, his head swiveling back and forth like a searchlight.
Richard didn’t know what to say. He knew the necessity for what they did to the younger children, knew that it tore out the heart of every parent who had to send a child into that cold, bleak outside world, but who did it anyway for the good of all Atlanteans. But he didn’t blame John for not understanding this. How could he, raised in a society warped by its unnatural emphasis on individuality, so dedicated to the notion that free choice and self-interest should take precedence over the good of all that they couldn’t support a functioning government, couldn’t effectively punish their criminals, couldn’t properly teach their children. No, he couldn’t expect John to understand, or think less of him for this failing. But he couldn’t let his ignorance sway him, either. It was for everyone’s well-being, including John’s, that he remain resolute. But I don’t have to argue with him either. Especially not right now. He took what he felt was the wisest course and remained silent as they continued to search.
The sky was lightening to a grey pre-dawn as they approached the house, their spirits sinking with every step that passed without a report of Darrick’s discovery. Richard wished he had a better idea of their time-frame, of how much longer they had left before everything went up in flames. The quiet of the street began to give way to the sounds of life – cars passing, morning conversation drifting out of open windows, dogs being walked. Richard hated to think of it all being wiped out in a single instant, and wondered if John maybe had been right about him being somewhat responsible. I should have studied harder. I should have known more. It was my duty, and I failed in it. I chose to be lazy when I was younger because I thought it would be more fun, and look where that got us. Duty must come first. I should have told him that.
In the span of a few minutes, they were joined by the other two search parties, all heading back to the house to regroup. It only took him a few seconds to notice that Patrick was missing, which was doubtlessly the reason Anthony was talking quietly to Jessica, who was reacting with tears. He would ask about it later, if there was time. He deliberately refused to think the words ‘if there is a later’. With some uncertainty, Cynthia walked next to John and quietly took his hand; he, just as quietly, held on tight. They all walked somberly silent for a time, until they turned the corner and the boarding house came into full view. Cynthia gasped. Richard didn’t understand why for a second, then he saw the dark form, only half-visible in the dim light, curled up on the doorstep. They all burst into a run. Richard was the last to arrive to see Cynthia holding her son’s comatose form in her arms, rocking him back and forth, crying his name over and over. Time for this later!
“John. Anthony.” Richard’s voice cracked through the morning air. “Pick him up and get him inside. Lay him next to Abigail. Hurry!” Darrick was still breathing, but only the gods knew for how much longer. He had to work fast.
Part 33
Anthony and Patrick quickly left the lights of the Little Five Points neighborhood behind, the strip on both side of the road descending into shadow. This made Anthony nervous – not because he feared being accosted by unseen assailants, but because he feared missing Darrick in the dark, especially if he were lying hurt or unconscious somewhere off the road. He considered calling for the missing man, but didn’t know if he would come towards them or run away, so he decided to remain inconspicuous, trusting to his own vigilant eyesight to spot the runaway. Looking at Patrick, though, he saw that his son did not share his dedication; instead of constantly scanning the shadows, he walked with head down and arms crossed, deliberate in his inattention.
“Stay alert, Patrick,” he ordered. “I need your pair of eyes. Your sister’s life is riding on this.” Patrick mumbled something underneath his breath. Anthony couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was unmistakable. “What was that?” he asked, his own tone brooking no denial.
“I said, what’s the fucking point?” Patrick spat out, each word emphasized clearly. “You can give me all that crap about taking care of the people you love, but we both know that’s a load of bullshit. It. Doesn’t. Matter. Anymore. We’re all going to die in the next few hours, so why should I spend my time trying to find the mongrel who stole my sister away and then killed her by running away himself?”
Anthony cursed the Command Richard had laid on him. If I could only tell Patrick that this isn’t necessarily the end, that saving Darrick would be saving ourselves. He’d cooperate then. Surely he’d cooperate then?
“You’ll do it because I’m your father,” Anthony said, resorting to the only method that showed consistent success. “I’m your father, and you are still unmarried. Do as your told, and hopefully I’ll be able to explain later.”
Patrick stopped still, raising his gaze to stare his father full in the face.
“No,” he said simply and firmly. “I refuse to waste the last few hours of my life searching for that half-breed. I want to spend my final moments with Elizabeth, the woman you chose for me to spend the rest of my life with, but your dragging me off to this outsider warren has robbed me of that opportunity. So I will find some place to be alone, so I can spend my life with the only true and pure Atlantean in this city. Myself.”
“Stop right there,” Anthony ordered as Patrick turned. Most likely out of habit than anything else, Patrick stopped. “You will spend your last remaining moments with your family, trying to save your sister’s life. Or does your Atlantean family mean so little to you?”
“My sister became an outsider the moment you bonded her to that . . . that thing,” Patrick snarled over his shoulder. “It’s only fitting that she die here.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Anthony said, his anger with this monster in the shape of his son overwhelming his control. “When did you become this hateful, bigoted person? Is it Elizabeth? We didn’t teach you to be like this!”
Patrick spun back to face his father, his own features livid. “This is exactly what you taught me. You taught me that the outside world is a dangerous, corrupt, wicked place. That Atlanteans have to remain separate so that we won’t lose who we are and become just like them. That we have to live in the outside world, but we can never be of it. And you were right! Just because you bonded my sister to some half-breed degenerate because you wanted his name doesn’t change the truth.” He pointed an accusing finger, shaking slightly from emotion. Anthony had to fight to keep himself from flinching. “You’ve left the true Atlantean path, not me. So don’t ask me where I learned it. Ask yourself when you forgot it.”
“And does Abigail deserve to die to preserve your purity?” Anthony demanded.
“Abigail made her own choices,” Patrick said, turning away once more. “I didn’t force her. You can’t blame me if she suffers the consequences for them. Though I’m sure you’ll try.” He walked briskly away, leaving Anthony to stand staring into the darkness. He knew there was no point in trying to follow. Patrick’s made his choice. I only hope he lives long enough to regret it.
* * * * *
Richard and John made their way slowly back towards the boarding house, all the way hoping to spy Darrick’s form, either somewhere along the road or curled up along the side. They walked slowly, and by the time they stepped onto the road leading to their destination, the eastern sky was starting to lighten with twilight. Soon, it would be time for everyone to meet again, Richard realized, heart sinking. No one had called. That meant Darrick had not yet been found.
Richard had a hard time looking at John, who was expending all his attention on the search, calling out his son’s name and occasionally veering off the road to examine a particularly dark shadow just in case it might be hiding Darrick’s inert form. He had barely spoken a full sentence to Richard the entire night, and Richard wasn’t surprised. He could feel the tension between them. Eventually, he had to say something.
“I’m terribly sorry for what happened to your son, Mr. Knight,” he said. “As a father myself, I understand what you must be going through. But rest assured, if we find him, I will do all I can to heal him.”
“I should hope so,” was John’s distracted reply. “You’re the reason he’s like this, after all.”
“I didn’t tell your son to run away,” Richard said, hurt by the accusation. “Had he approached me on the matter, I would have encouraged the opposite.”
“No, you just used him as a tool in your own grandiose plans,” John replied. “Next time you try to bring world peace, could you leave my son out of it?” The sarcasm, Richard felt, was deeply unfair.
“Mr. Knight, I did not make your son who he is,” he said, a calm reminder of basic facts. “He would have determined the course of the world no matter what I did. I was simply doing what I could to make his path as pleasant as possible.”
“By using a magic you didn’t fully understand,” John answered, as angrily as he could while still devoting his attention to the search. “You said yourself that you should have studied more when you were younger. But you still had no problems using it on Darrick, because you just assumed you knew better. You set the whole thing up behind the scenes, certain that you knew what was best for everyone. For the entire world! How arrogant is that? Did you ever think that, maybe, he would be happier living the life he chose, instead of the one you chose for him?”
“You agreed to it at the time.” John deflated a bit at the reminder.
“For my wife’s sake. I didn’t realize it would spell the end of our marriage, even if it did take twenty years.” He turned his face away, but Richard could hear his grief.
“I’m very sorry for that as well,” he said. “A bonding is supposed to bring families together, not tear them apart.”
“Strange to hear that, seeing as how tearing families apart is one of the things you people do best.”
“I don’t know what you are saying. The family is all-important to us. That’s why the bond is so important. It guarantees healthy families. Or at least helps them tremendously.” Richard thought of his own bond, of the many joyous years he had spent with his wife, united beyond normal human comprehension. Yes, he thought. The bond is a good thing. I cannot believe Darrick would have been happier without it.
“So all-important that you tear them apart?” John asked incredulously. “Maybe you don’t realize what that does to the ones you send off on their own, to live in that outside world you spend their entire childhood teaching them to avoid. Cutting them off must make it easy to pretend that they’ll do just fine.” He was getting angrier with each word, his diction becoming clipped and forceful. “But I watched what your exile did to my wife year after year. I watched her battle loneliness, depression, a sense of abandonment and distrust that I could never get through. But you must have trained her well, because she never took it out on you, never said ‘To hell with those people who threw me away and everything they stand for’. No, she took it out on her true family, the one who chose her out of love, instead of chasing her away out of fear. Me.” He fell silent once more, glaring off into the night, his head swiveling back and forth like a searchlight.
Richard didn’t know what to say. He knew the necessity for what they did to the younger children, knew that it tore out the heart of every parent who had to send a child into that cold, bleak outside world, but who did it anyway for the good of all Atlanteans. But he didn’t blame John for not understanding this. How could he, raised in a society warped by its unnatural emphasis on individuality, so dedicated to the notion that free choice and self-interest should take precedence over the good of all that they couldn’t support a functioning government, couldn’t effectively punish their criminals, couldn’t properly teach their children. No, he couldn’t expect John to understand, or think less of him for this failing. But he couldn’t let his ignorance sway him, either. It was for everyone’s well-being, including John’s, that he remain resolute. But I don’t have to argue with him either. Especially not right now. He took what he felt was the wisest course and remained silent as they continued to search.
The sky was lightening to a grey pre-dawn as they approached the house, their spirits sinking with every step that passed without a report of Darrick’s discovery. Richard wished he had a better idea of their time-frame, of how much longer they had left before everything went up in flames. The quiet of the street began to give way to the sounds of life – cars passing, morning conversation drifting out of open windows, dogs being walked. Richard hated to think of it all being wiped out in a single instant, and wondered if John maybe had been right about him being somewhat responsible. I should have studied harder. I should have known more. It was my duty, and I failed in it. I chose to be lazy when I was younger because I thought it would be more fun, and look where that got us. Duty must come first. I should have told him that.
In the span of a few minutes, they were joined by the other two search parties, all heading back to the house to regroup. It only took him a few seconds to notice that Patrick was missing, which was doubtlessly the reason Anthony was talking quietly to Jessica, who was reacting with tears. He would ask about it later, if there was time. He deliberately refused to think the words ‘if there is a later’. With some uncertainty, Cynthia walked next to John and quietly took his hand; he, just as quietly, held on tight. They all walked somberly silent for a time, until they turned the corner and the boarding house came into full view. Cynthia gasped. Richard didn’t understand why for a second, then he saw the dark form, only half-visible in the dim light, curled up on the doorstep. They all burst into a run. Richard was the last to arrive to see Cynthia holding her son’s comatose form in her arms, rocking him back and forth, crying his name over and over. Time for this later!
“John. Anthony.” Richard’s voice cracked through the morning air. “Pick him up and get him inside. Lay him next to Abigail. Hurry!” Darrick was still breathing, but only the gods knew for how much longer. He had to work fast.
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