11-06-2013, 04:52 PM
A start to believing, but not enough. There just wasn't time -- couldn't Nick Trano understand that? "Does it really do any good to hold on to the notion you are imagining all of this? You won't be able to realize the full potential of this power if you cannot accept it."
Nick got serious again. "You're asking me to accept that I have magical powers, Jon. Without any reservation."
He clenched the hand that had been holding the glass into a fist. "Doesn't it sound a little ridiculous when you say it outright?"
Sighing, he glanced away. "It's going to take a little while, alright?"
Jon nodded. He could understand Nick's trepidation, if only academically. Jon hadn't faced such a soul altering paradigm shift upon learning he could touch the power of the Great Spirit. For him, it was a simple matter of accepting his peoples' stories were real. From there curiosity overcame apprehension and it was just a matter of wanting to know how far down the rabbit hole went.
But one thing was certain. Nick would have to improve his debate skills if he was going to have a prayer of running for office.
"Take as much time as you want,"
Jon replied. "But each day you delay is another day you will know Nikolai Brandon has yet another advantage over you."
Nick clenched his jaw at that, clearly annoyed by the reminder. "I guess if there's one reason to accept all this, it's him. I don't want to be the one counting the cost if he isn't stopped. We can both see how this ends, with the path he's on."
He looked back up. Jon had definitely snapped some backbone into Trano with his statement. "So that just leaves one question: Why now?"
He smiled weakly. "I'd really hate it if Jessika Thrice is right and Brandon's the Antichrist."
Jon smirked at that. He had heard of Jessika Thrice. She'd probably call anyone who dismissed her religious interpretations the Antichrist. "I couldn't tell you. Why did Jesus come to earth when he did and not a thousand years later? But I do know this ability to use this power was once something very old, older than history, and that the ability was lost."
He took a breath. Noah.
What he'd said when he thought Jon wasn't listening. Unless he had meant Jon to hear. "I once heard an old man say that what was and what will be may also be what is, today."
"Sounds ominous. So this doesn't strike you as terribly odd? Nothing like this has ever occurred in recorded history."
Trano gripped his head in both hands and flung them away as if to mimic his head exploding. "Unless mythology's actually accurate and we're all reincarnated gods."
Jon raised an eyebrow at Trano's strange but fitting pantomime for his apparently still unstable grasp on accepting the truth. "Well, the natives shared a common belief in one Great Spirit. And then there were lesser gods who still possessed great abilities. Your own faith shares a similar belief. If I remember correctly from your autobiography, you are a professed Catholic. You could say the same of God and his angels."
"I'd say that puts us more in line with saints, but I was never a very good Catholic."
He sighed. "So, what then? We're all living in some biblical prophecy? That's not exactly reassuring... things are looking a little too much like Revelations for my taste."
Looking back towards Jon, he continued. "So essentially you have no idea why any of this is happening either. I guess we'll just have to ride it out."
Jon shook his head. "I only know that it has happened before. And I don't know what is going to come of it, either."
He sat down and took a drink of coffee. Trano hadn't spilled all of it, but what was left had grown cold. "Crazy old bastard wouldn't tell me,"
he muttered into the mug.
Trano narrowed his eyes at Jon in apparent deep contemplation. "If this has happened before, what stopped it all? Everybody else get fed up and decide to kill off all the people who can do it?"
Jon could see him unsettled by where that line of thought was leading him. "Or is there some side-effect so terrible we can't even imagine?"
Jon considered the second question Nick had put to him. What if there was some terrible consequence from the emergence of this ability? "If there is some terrible consequence, I'd think we would be better able to handle it through strength and knowledge. But as for what stopped it, there have been--and are--hunters. and they are hunting."
He paused, setting down his empty coffee mug. "So that would strike me as the more likely reason for what happened."
"Hunters? And how has something like that managed to stay a secret?"
He paused. "So that explains why so many people with the Sickness end up disappearing."
A secret...Jon chucked. "You hit the hatchet square on the tree stump, Nick. It's probably the best, worst kept secret I know of. They call themselves The Atharim and they are the reason the Native tribes no longer send their afflicted to hospitals. We figured it out."
"But isn't it a little strange that it's not common knowledge? Somebody has to be helping them."
He tilted his head. "Assuming they're as massive and organized as you say."
Jon grabbed his empty mug and went to the kitchen to pour himself another mug. "My only guess they aren't common knowledge is that they seem to operate through proxies when they move in the open. Think about the Inquisition and and the witch hunts in Salem. Seemingly unconnected but at the same time, not."
"Fair enough. Besides, it's not like they would all have a special tattoo or something obvious like that. But it's still incredible luck on their part that they haven't been exposed."
Jon choked on his coffee. It took him a moment to regain his breath. "Well, as to that, um...they actually do mark themselves."
Nick was incredulous to say the least. "So, you're telling me there's a group that goes around murdering a select group of people in mass numbers--they all mark themselves, and nobody's found them?"
He waved a hand. "Well, except for you. I've seen enough crazy stuff the past couple days to believe you, but that's ridiculous."
Jon shrugged. Nick was actually quite right about the absurdity of such an organization remaining secret. "As I said, the best, worst kept secret. I wasn't the one to find them. But I was told by one who would know these things."
He grabbed a piece of stationery from the kitchen counter and took a pen from his pocket. He drew a simple image for Nick -- a snake biting its own tail. "It's called the ouroborus. My peoples have had...poor dealings with those marked with this sign in our past."
"Sounds like a cult."
He rubbed his chin. "At least they've made themselves easy to find."
Jon crumpled up the paper and threw it in the wastebasket. "I don't know anything more about them, truthfully. Just that I was told to avoid them. And I've gotten the impression that others with our same ability know about them as well."
Trano's eyes trailed to the wastebasket. "Now if only there was some way to use them."
Jon's eyes twinged with mirth, and a sly grin crept across his face. "Now you're starting to sound like a leader."
Nick got serious again. "You're asking me to accept that I have magical powers, Jon. Without any reservation."
He clenched the hand that had been holding the glass into a fist. "Doesn't it sound a little ridiculous when you say it outright?"
Sighing, he glanced away. "It's going to take a little while, alright?"
Jon nodded. He could understand Nick's trepidation, if only academically. Jon hadn't faced such a soul altering paradigm shift upon learning he could touch the power of the Great Spirit. For him, it was a simple matter of accepting his peoples' stories were real. From there curiosity overcame apprehension and it was just a matter of wanting to know how far down the rabbit hole went.
But one thing was certain. Nick would have to improve his debate skills if he was going to have a prayer of running for office.
"Take as much time as you want,"
Jon replied. "But each day you delay is another day you will know Nikolai Brandon has yet another advantage over you."
Nick clenched his jaw at that, clearly annoyed by the reminder. "I guess if there's one reason to accept all this, it's him. I don't want to be the one counting the cost if he isn't stopped. We can both see how this ends, with the path he's on."
He looked back up. Jon had definitely snapped some backbone into Trano with his statement. "So that just leaves one question: Why now?"
He smiled weakly. "I'd really hate it if Jessika Thrice is right and Brandon's the Antichrist."
Jon smirked at that. He had heard of Jessika Thrice. She'd probably call anyone who dismissed her religious interpretations the Antichrist. "I couldn't tell you. Why did Jesus come to earth when he did and not a thousand years later? But I do know this ability to use this power was once something very old, older than history, and that the ability was lost."
He took a breath. Noah.
What he'd said when he thought Jon wasn't listening. Unless he had meant Jon to hear. "I once heard an old man say that what was and what will be may also be what is, today."
"Sounds ominous. So this doesn't strike you as terribly odd? Nothing like this has ever occurred in recorded history."
Trano gripped his head in both hands and flung them away as if to mimic his head exploding. "Unless mythology's actually accurate and we're all reincarnated gods."
Jon raised an eyebrow at Trano's strange but fitting pantomime for his apparently still unstable grasp on accepting the truth. "Well, the natives shared a common belief in one Great Spirit. And then there were lesser gods who still possessed great abilities. Your own faith shares a similar belief. If I remember correctly from your autobiography, you are a professed Catholic. You could say the same of God and his angels."
"I'd say that puts us more in line with saints, but I was never a very good Catholic."
He sighed. "So, what then? We're all living in some biblical prophecy? That's not exactly reassuring... things are looking a little too much like Revelations for my taste."
Looking back towards Jon, he continued. "So essentially you have no idea why any of this is happening either. I guess we'll just have to ride it out."
Jon shook his head. "I only know that it has happened before. And I don't know what is going to come of it, either."
He sat down and took a drink of coffee. Trano hadn't spilled all of it, but what was left had grown cold. "Crazy old bastard wouldn't tell me,"
he muttered into the mug.
Trano narrowed his eyes at Jon in apparent deep contemplation. "If this has happened before, what stopped it all? Everybody else get fed up and decide to kill off all the people who can do it?"
Jon could see him unsettled by where that line of thought was leading him. "Or is there some side-effect so terrible we can't even imagine?"
Jon considered the second question Nick had put to him. What if there was some terrible consequence from the emergence of this ability? "If there is some terrible consequence, I'd think we would be better able to handle it through strength and knowledge. But as for what stopped it, there have been--and are--hunters. and they are hunting."
He paused, setting down his empty coffee mug. "So that would strike me as the more likely reason for what happened."
"Hunters? And how has something like that managed to stay a secret?"
He paused. "So that explains why so many people with the Sickness end up disappearing."
A secret...Jon chucked. "You hit the hatchet square on the tree stump, Nick. It's probably the best, worst kept secret I know of. They call themselves The Atharim and they are the reason the Native tribes no longer send their afflicted to hospitals. We figured it out."
"But isn't it a little strange that it's not common knowledge? Somebody has to be helping them."
He tilted his head. "Assuming they're as massive and organized as you say."
Jon grabbed his empty mug and went to the kitchen to pour himself another mug. "My only guess they aren't common knowledge is that they seem to operate through proxies when they move in the open. Think about the Inquisition and and the witch hunts in Salem. Seemingly unconnected but at the same time, not."
"Fair enough. Besides, it's not like they would all have a special tattoo or something obvious like that. But it's still incredible luck on their part that they haven't been exposed."
Jon choked on his coffee. It took him a moment to regain his breath. "Well, as to that, um...they actually do mark themselves."
Nick was incredulous to say the least. "So, you're telling me there's a group that goes around murdering a select group of people in mass numbers--they all mark themselves, and nobody's found them?"
He waved a hand. "Well, except for you. I've seen enough crazy stuff the past couple days to believe you, but that's ridiculous."
Jon shrugged. Nick was actually quite right about the absurdity of such an organization remaining secret. "As I said, the best, worst kept secret. I wasn't the one to find them. But I was told by one who would know these things."
He grabbed a piece of stationery from the kitchen counter and took a pen from his pocket. He drew a simple image for Nick -- a snake biting its own tail. "It's called the ouroborus. My peoples have had...poor dealings with those marked with this sign in our past."
"Sounds like a cult."
He rubbed his chin. "At least they've made themselves easy to find."
Jon crumpled up the paper and threw it in the wastebasket. "I don't know anything more about them, truthfully. Just that I was told to avoid them. And I've gotten the impression that others with our same ability know about them as well."
Trano's eyes trailed to the wastebasket. "Now if only there was some way to use them."
Jon's eyes twinged with mirth, and a sly grin crept across his face. "Now you're starting to sound like a leader."