The Sons of Adam: The sequel of The Immortal Collection (A Saga of the Ancient Family Book 2) (25 page)

"Anyway, that cave you were going into... it's not a good place. Seriously. There's another one close by that doesn't have such a dark past, Cathedral Cove. We held many services there after the 1745 uprising, but you can only get to it during low tide. That's why the mare didn't take you there, even though I prefer it. For me, the route you took today is damned."

"What's wrong with the cave? I've been in worst places, almost every prehistoric cave I've worked in had a worse entrance than that one, trust me."

"That may be, but I don't think they have a worse history to tell. It's known as the cave of the Massacre. 396 members of the McDonald clan were burned alive and asphyxiated there in 1577."

"What happened?"

"We were in the middle of a war of clans. McLeods against McDonalds, McDonalds against McLeods. A death to avenge a grievance, an ambush in response to an insult. Uncle Nagorno and I were part and parcel of that time. Always short-tempered, always hostile, always on the verge of drawing our swords. It was a way of life and we were part of it. The McLeod clan was allowed to dwell on our island during one of the truces. The History books say that they got too cozy with the daughters of our clan. Nice euphemism. They began to jump them on any of the paths, they went into the farms at night and took them, none of them were safe. If you had have taken tonight's route in that time, there's no way you would have reached this point intact. They would have found you and had their way with you."

I gulped when I heard that. I could see that he wasn't exaggerating.

"We rounded up the McDonalds and threw them off the island," Gunnarr continued. "They wanted revenge and tried to come back, but we were prepared. All the inhabitants of the island, all the members of the clan. We hid in that cave, watching them as they tried to take the island from the sea, but one of our members climbed up the hill and they saw us. They covered the entrance with hay and set it on fire. Stories say that only one family was saved, others that only one old woman survived. In fact, neither is true. It was Nagorno and I. The island was left empty, they all perished. After that we hid in Ireland and over time we became the heads of the northern clans, Hugh O'Neill, Count of Tyrone and Red Hugh O´Donell, Lord of Tyrconnell."

"And now you're talking about Kinsale," I interrupted.

"Yes, but I'll tell you about that some other day,
stedmor
. Some other day," he whispered behind me.

"My mother would have found the episode interesting," I commented, changing the conversation.

"Your mother? And why's that?"

"Because she was a psychologist and would have thought that your ability to end up in situations where fire is involved is a great emotional trigger."

"And once more, the vision of an ephemeral such as your mother gives us an opinion that's too biased. How would she have been able to see the full picture of the four longevos and their elements?"

"I don't understand, Gunnarr."

"It's an old theory I have. I believe that each longevo is linked to one of the four elements: Earth, Water, Wind and Fire. It's inevitable, the elements present themselves to us time and time again throughout our lives. My grandfather Lür's element is Earth, given his Real Name and his attachment to this planet to the point of never abandoning it. My father, Urko, is linked to Water. His name means "He Who Comes From The Water", which comes from his mother's clan and their belief that our eyes are this color because we are linked to the water and we must always live near the coast, just as my father has always told me, or we will lose our identity and the color of our eyes will be lost forever. My Uncle Nagorno, to Wind. He has always lived in places where the wind is stronger than any other element. Or maybe it's the other way around, wherever he goes, the wind obeys him and follows him, and ends up owning the surrounding area. I'm not sure, I've seen too many miracles happen by his side. As for me, and I don't know why the hell why, but I always end up coming face to face with fire. For now, I've always managed to beat it."

"I hadn't made the connection with the names."

"The sounds of our names are very old, they come from the first words, the first roots."

"Up until now I knew that the morpheme UR was repeated in many places around Europe where there was water. There are streams called Urti, the river Uringa in the Rif and all its derivatives, all the sources of the l'Or in Spain and in the Alps. Iago gave me a lecture on prehistoric and pre Indo-European place names."

"That's right, it's one of the oldest words that exists, although Lür is even older. The sound that accompanies it, represented nowadays by the letter
el
, accompanied the words that referred to something it contained, the support, the earth itself. All of our original names try to maintain this morpheme, adapting them to the different languages of the culture we were born into: L
ur
,
Ur
ko, Nag
or
no, L
yr
a, Gunn
ar
r… We carry the stamp of the Ancient Family in our names, and that's not good, it's not good..." he said to himself. "Uncle Nagorno told me that my father calls you Dana. It's a very old morpheme, I wouldn't use it.  You should be careful with that," he muttered, as if the simple fact of saying it out loud would hurt him.

"Getting back to the matter of the four elements, my grandfather Lür, on the other hand, thinks that each of us longevos has a totem: his is a mammoth, due to its longevity. My father, a cave lion, due to its intelligence and agility, Nagorno a snake and me an albino bear. That's what us Ancients are like, we have our absurd beliefs, our superstitions."

"The Ancients?"

"Yes, the longevos with many millennia behind them."

"You speak as though there were more than just your grandfather and your father."

"No, not that I know of. Come on, I don't want the snake to sneak up on us. My Uncle Nagorno mustn't find out about this or you won't be allowed out of your cell."

"Are you really worried about my wellbeing?"

He didn't answer, Gunnarr never did if he didn't have anything to add or if it wasn't convenient for him to give an answer. He simply ignored me and didn't seem to feel uncomfortable with the silences.

"My mother was Nagorno's psychologist," I told him, just to carry on talking. "In fact, she tried, to no avail, to treat the psychopath that is your uncle. A lost case.”

"Don't underestimate him. You know that I understand your hatred towards him, you've seen his worst side. The side that killed your mother, that kidnapped you, but I'd say that despite all that, you have an effect on him that no other woman ever has. What's more, when this whole episode is satisfactorily resolved, I'm sure that Nagorno won't ever bother you again. I know that he's really upset about this situation, he would have wanted to resolve it another way, without involving you."

"That's very optimistic of you. Do you really think that Iago will get here in time? What you've asked of him is verging on the impossible, and you're smart enough to know that."

"You have to have more faith in my father. We all have to. I do. I know that he would do the impossible to cure Uncle Nagorno in time. And then he will leave you alone. In fact, I think that you've gained a protector. I think that during the decades of life you have left, Nagorno will take care of you from the shadows, from a distance, as he always does for those he loves. And I'll get over my damn pride and forgive my father once and for all. If he appreciates you as much as you deserve, then I'm satisfied with the suffering I've caused him with your kidnapping. Trust my father,
stedmor
. He'll return the much needed order to the Ancient Family."

"Your father," I sighed. "Iago would be alarmed if he knew what I was thinking, and I'm also worried about my own reactions, in a way."

"Explain."

"How? I'll try to make you understand without you laughing at me. You see, Gunnarr, the days are very long in my cell and I force myself not to think about Iago, it would make me ill to think about how desperate he must feeling about my kidnapping and Nagorno's threat, and yours as well, there's no point in beating about the bush... Despite that, I think that my brain is playing tricks on me. I thought that I was stronger, that I would have more stamina, but I keep having the same thought, remembering over and over the stories you tell me about the
berserkir
, waiting for you to come at night to tell me a bit more."

"You're worried about becoming dependent on me so as not to drive yourself crazy."

"To be frank, Gunnarr, I'm afraid of having Stockholm."

Gunnarr pulled on the reins and the horse came to a stop.

“That means having an unhealthy dependence towards your captor."

"That's right."

"I don't think so, you just tried to run away from me."

"I had to give it a try, don't you think? But while I was being led by Nagorno's horse, I couldn't stop thinking:
It's over, I can be free. This can all be over soon.
And I couldn't stop thinking about the consequences, about whether Iago will forgive you, about whether I'll ever see you again, about your stories, about what happened to you, and above all, about whether I'll ever find out what happened in Kinsale that separated a father and son who loved each other as much as you two did."

Gunnarr kept quiet and we set off again. I couldn't see anything, I could just feel his belt and his chest rhythmically hitting against my back as the horse trotted along.

"Gunnarr, are you there?" I asked. "Have you fallen asleep?"

"I nearly did," he said, but his tone had changed. It was cold, distant, and that's what I was looking for. A reaction, a change. "Your explanations bore me,
stedmor
. And believe me, if anyone wants this kidnapping to be over, it's me."

We reached the stables in silence, Gunnarr lit a small light to put the horses back in their place and frowned at the sky that was beginning to get lighter.

"We should go inside, my uncle will wake any time now."

But I wasn't going to let this moment pass. Gunnarr seemed willing to confide in me and tell me pretty much anything.

"What you said earlier about the fire... the scars on your neck are from a fire, aren't they?"

He looked at me in surprise.

"No one's noticed them for a long time," he muttered to himself.

"I guess that's because no one's been that close to you in a very long time to see them."

He took off his dark shirt, that had one of those phrases that was everywhere lately: Keep calm and carry swords. Very Gunnarr.

"What happened?" I asked, looking at the scars that ran down his chest.

"I had a boat and a crew. In the 14th century I earned a living taking English Pilgrims across the English Channel to the Spanish coast, where they continued their route towards the old Camino de Santiago. I met a woman, their leader. She was powerful, although I could tell that she was disloyal. She asked me for a favor, a costly favor, that included spilling much blood. I did it, but I made sure to leave her tied to a promise. I got these burns coming back on the boat from that mission. My clothes set on fire, the ship sunk and I lost all my men."

I went over to him to get a better look in the dark.

"I know that my scars are repulsive to the eyes of a woman."

"No, it's not that," I said, running my hand over his scarred chest. I was more horrified that someone had lived through that. "It's just that the scars cover your entire chest, you must have thought that your heart was going to burn that day."

"You said it,
stedmor
. My heart almost turned to coal on that fateful day."

He accompanied me to the cell in silence and didn't lock the door until he saw me lie down on the bed, but he was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't even say goodbye.

I waited for him to turn the light off and smiled in the dark.

My attempt to escape had been unsuccessful, but Gunnarr had given me enough information about my location: I now had an idea of where I was being held.

I just needed for Gunnarr to keep believing in my Stockholm syndrome. The next time he wanted to test my reactions, he wasn't going to get today's test run.

29

First Massacre

LÜR

Current Tanzania, 20.000 B.C.

"Lür, you have to come! You must see this!" shouted the girl, a
gwadi
, tugging on his arm.

Lür recognized her by her curly hair. All the other children in the village had straighter hair, maybe because they were all mixed-race, children of Lür, a white man, and his wives, who all had dark skin.

He dropped his bow and ran behind her, forgetting about the prey he was about to shoot. The
gwadi
's eyes were huge and he'd seen that look of terror before. He knew that something very bad had happened.