John Schettler - Nexus Point

“Perhaps,” said Maeve. “It could be that an operation was underway to try and effect a change by taking out the Lever that led to the battle—Reginald, the Wolf of Kerak.”

“Yes!” Nordhausen remembered his research. “The hieroglyphics in that scroll I was telling you about: they spoke of a wolf! Here, let me read you my notes.” He fumbled about for a moment, producing a folded leaf from his shirt pocket. “I have the translation right here. The Wolf shall go forward and prey upon the bounty of the lord… Yet if he be slain for his misdeed, then all will be overthrown.”

“Well, Reginald certainly preyed upon the bounty of the Lord,” said Maeve. “His raid on Saladin’s caravan broke the truce and ignited this whole conflict. You’re certain that was on Rasil’s scroll?”

“Absolutely. And there was talk of the Gate of the West—that’s the Horns of Hattin, right? There was also mention of an old man returning, a temple priest of time, as the characters read.”

They looked at one another and Paul summed up their thinking. “Rasil was carrying instructions. There’s no doubt about it from this information. They were trying to make sure that Reginald lived. Must have been hard for them to spare the brute but, by doing so, they got the Horns of Hattin.” He had a vacant look in his eye, as though struggling to recall some far off memory. The glowing eyes of the wolf he had encountered outside the archive had returned to him, and its low growl haunted the frontiers of his thinking.

“Then who was trying to kill him?” Kelly asked the obvious question.

“My guess would be this group they called ‘the Order.’ They kept asking me if I was a member of the Order—if I was a Templar and such.”

“How odd,” said Nordhausen. “Rasil assumed I was one of these operatives as well. That’s why he was so tight lipped about your destination at the other end of the well. The Templars were supposed to have been stamped out long ago, but who knows—perhaps there’s a remnant active, some secret group run from the Vatican cellar. Well, whatever they were planning to do, it failed.”

“But what’s to stop them from trying again?” Kelly led the discussion to an obvious, though troublesome question.

“Right,” said Nordhausen. “They failed this time, but suppose they just go back to some other point in Reginald’s life and do something—or to a point before he was born to eliminate him from the time line altogether.”

“That may not be as easy as you think,” said Paul. “He’s certainly a major lever on events, if not a Prime Mover of his own. Eliminating him would have repercussions that would be impossible to predict. No, I think it would have to be something more subtle, like simply finding a way to delay him on the road. That would leave the bulk of his Meridian intact, but it still might accomplish something to alter a key event.”

“Right,” Maeve put in. “Maybe Paul’s arrival did something to counteract the transformation they had planned—a distraction, an unaccountable variable in the mix. We may never know, but I’ll say this: if we don’t shut this thing down, and I don’t see how we can with this war going on, then we weigh in on the side of Mother Time.”

“What do you mean?” asked Paul.

“We know how things are now,” Maeve explained. “It’s the world we believe to be our own—at least I do. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I need something to hold onto each day, something I can use to make sense of the world. There’s enough uncertainty out there as it is. If we get involved, it must be to preserve the past as we know it now—to put a stop to this Time War by foiling their efforts, if we can.”

“Just like Paul did,” said Kelly.

“Right, only we do it with more sense and direction. We keep watch, and we plan, and we get it all right. Understand?” Maeve’s point was well taken.

There was a moment of silence where they all seemed to sign on to her proposition. “It’s the only moral thing we can do,” said Paul. “You’re right. The Arch is power—more power than all the armies that ever walked the earth. We could blow the whole thing up, but something tells me the people in generations hence will go right on with their war. The moment we developed the Arch we made time travel possible. It was destined to succeed—perhaps even a Grand Imperative. Who knows how long this war has been going on? Something tells me it started with the effort to reverse Palma—with Graves’ mission. Now both sides are running operatives into key Nexus Points of the past to try and bend the history their way. My fall into the Well was just another Pushpoint: one of those stumbling moments in time that led us to discover all this. Keeping the Arch alive is the only way we can know what’s going on, or do anything about it when something begins to slide into the abyss. If we use it, we use it with the intention of preserving things—just like Maeve says.”

“Who’s to say our Meridian is the way things are supposed to be?” asked Nordhausen.

“We are,” said Maeve. “We started it. The Time project originated on our Meridian. We’re all Prime movers, right? Then we make this the Prime Meridian. The world we know now will be our reference point on everything we do, and the Arch will be our own Royal Observatory—a place where we can monitor what’s happening and take corrective action.”

They were all in agreement, and Paul placed his hand upon the table, his vote slapped onto the hard wood. Kelly was the first to cover his hand, then Maeve placed her palm on his. She looked at Nordhausen, a challenge in her hazel eyes. He nodded agreement and reached out, cupping her hand with his own. The four hands formed the hub of a wheel, a Nexus of consent and resolve. They had a mission in life now, a pledge and a purpose, for as long as they lived.

Nordhausen was already thinking ahead. “Then we all get a cell phone,” he suggested. “Perhaps one of us should be on station at the Arch at all times.”

“We’ve got a lot to think about,” said Paul. “Security will be our first concern, I’m afraid.”

“Security? You still worried that the government will step in?” Kelly was thinking about how he might start setting up data mirrors and redundant services. Even something as simple as an earthquake could put their single Arch facility out of commission.

“It’s not the government I’m worried about,” said Paul. “It’s the likes of Rasil, and this Sami fellow I ran into—or even Sinan, for that matter. We have to be careful; very cautious. No more keys under that mat, Robert.”

“You think we could be targets?” Nordhausen scratched his head. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think Rasil recognized me, even though I gave him my name—yours as well. Perhaps we’re not as important as we think… Then again.” He lapsed into thought, struggling to remember. “Yes, Rasil did say something very odd to me when I told him my name—something about my being named after a great warrior he called the Marvel of Time. Why, he even said I bore a resemblance to the man.”

“It may be that he was referring to you, Robert. If we get mixed up in this we’re likely to become well known to our adversaries—historical figures akin to the founding fathers in their eyes, and the stuff of legend and story. You made a call on Rasil’s satellite phone, remember? They’ve probably got a line on exactly who answered. And that means they know we were involved in this incident somehow. We all have to be careful—very careful. We can’t leave any historical record of what we’re about here. Even our research queries have to be very guarded now. We have to shield ourselves with as much haze as possible, and make this Milieu a tough nut to crack.”