19: The Unmaking of Artemus Gordon Meriwether

As Ambrose had predicted, the rain stopped shortly after the noon hour. Feeling restless, Alex grabbed a coat from the front closet and stepped outside, taking a deep breath, filling his lungs with the fresh scent of rain-soaked air. The purple-black clouds were already breaking apart and the sun was peeking through, its shafts of light turning the raindrops on the trees into glittering diamonds. Already, leaves were turning and many had fallen, carpeting the ground with dull golds and reds.

He walked out to the street and paused, not entirely sure which direction to take. If he turned left he would eventually return to the college, right would take him into town. By now Derek would be on his way to the camp site. He wasn’t sure who else he knew would be going, and really there was not much else for him to do at the college, so with a shrug he turned right.

He was still unsure how he felt about things, especially now that his cover had been blown and Darren had left much for him to think about. His mission had changed, but what that meant exactly he did not know. In all his years as an agent he’d never had his cover blown, right up to the very last minute when he revealed himself to those who thought him ‘one of us’. He had enjoyed the looks of shock and betrayal on the faces of his ‘comrades’ even as he helped cuff them. He had no pity for the scum who would plot the deaths of innocents while spouting fine-sounding slogans about ‘cleansing the world of the evil government in solidarity with our oppressed brothers and sisters’. No. Artemus Gordon Meriwether had no sympathy for any of that lot.

What about Alex Grant, though?

He slowed his walk as he thought about that. These people knew who and what he was, knew his rightful name, but chose to continue calling him ‘Alex’. On one level he understood this: they may know who he really was but no one else did and it was best to maintain the fiction to avoid confusion and awkward questions. On the other hand, he had the feeling that in calling him by his alias rather than by his actual name, they were subtly letting him know that they approved of ‘Alex’ but not necessarily of ‘Artemus’.

Who are you in the dream?

Those words haunted him. Who was he, indeed? Was he ‘Alex’ watching ‘Artemus’ drown? Was he someone else? He had a host of different aliases, each one carefully crafted. Some of them he did not like, for he’d been forced to play roles that were distasteful to him, yet had been absolutely necessary in order to achieve his goals. Those he gratefully put aside once he had no further use for them, yet he could not deny that they were a part of him, a part of his psyche, for he had always drawn his alter egos from within himself. It was something Ambrose had taught him in order to give the role verisimilitude. It had meant, in some cases, tapping into the darker regions of his soul and that was another thing Ambrose had taught him.

"We all have our dark side," he remembered his mentor explaining. "Most of us refuse to acknowledge it, fearing it, but if we befriend the less noble aspects of ourselves we can sometimes use them to our benefit. An agent never scorns any weapon that may come his way, including the basest aspects of his self."

It was a lesson he had taken to heart as he took on various assignments, always keeping in mind the other half of the lesson:

"Don’t let the dark side take over," Ambrose had admonished. "It is not to be allowed. Use it as a tool but do not embrace it as a lover. That way leads only to destruction of the soul. Never forget who truly is in charge." And he had tapped a finger on Artemus’ forehead for emphasis. It was a lesson he had striven never to forget and he thought that for the most part he had succeeded in not losing his soul as so many other agents had.

But was that true, or rather was it the whole truth? Did Loren and the others see something within him that belied his own belief that he had safeguarded his soul all these years? Perhaps he hadn’t done as good a job as he’d thought and this is what they saw when they saw ‘Artemus’ and therefore preferred to be addressing ‘Alex’. It was a sobering thought and apparently the tarn was part of the puzzle. He simply didn’t know enough to figure out in what manner.

"Hey, Alex!"

Alex stopped and looked about at the sound of his name and saw a van had stopped and recognized Zach, who’d opened the passenger side window to call out. He sauntered over and leaned on the door.

"Need a lift?" Zach asked.

"I’m heading into town," Alex answered.

"Anywhere in particular?"

Alex shook his head. "I just needed to stretch my legs. I’ve been cooped up all morning."

"Well, hop in. I’m heading for Bettles myself and I would welcome the company."

Alex opened the door and got inside. "What’s in Bettles?"

"The airport. My friend Shane’s mom is visiting and I agreed to pick her up. Shane lost a filling and is at the dentist having it replaced, so I told her I would go in her stead."

Alex nodded and buckled up. "I’m not expected back until dinner. Loren has insisted that I stay the weekend at the mansion."

Zach nodded as he moved the car back onto the street. "He was really worried about you. We all were."

"I told him off for yelling at you," Alex said with a grin. "He told me off for telling him off."

Zach laughed. "That’s Loren, all right. I wouldn’t worry about it. I deserved being told off for what I did."

"How’s Caleb and the other kids?"

"They’re fine. Nicole was less than pleased but once she calmed down and realized that Caleb had not suffered anything but getting wet, she forgave me."

"I’m glad. Did you ever find out who those hikers were?"

Zach shook his head. "No, not really. I’m just grateful that they showed up when they did."

"So am I," Alex said.

"How are you doing?"

Alex shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Still have nightmares about it. That’s why Loren insisted I stay with him and the others. He knew I’d be alone this weekend otherwise with Derek off camping."

"And have they been able to help you?" Zach said and the diffident manner in which the question was asked alerted Alex and he gave his friend a shrewd look.

"Do you believe in elves?" he asked instead, and then sat there wondering where that question had come from, yet he was curious to see Zach’s reaction as his hands suddenly tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles practically white.

"Wh-what?"

"Elves. Do you believe in them or perhaps I should say, do you believe in the possibility that they could exist even if they don’t?"

"And what brought this on?" Zach asked and Alex knew it for an evasion, but answered readily enough.

"Something Darren said when we happened to be discussing Dante. He asked me what sort of universe I preferred to live in, one where there is the possibility that elves can exist or one where they don’t. I was just curious as to which kind of universe you preferred."

"Well, seeing as how I joined Elf Academy, I think the answer is obvious," Zach replied with a grin, his grip on the steering wheel loosening somewhat.

"So do you believe elves can exist?" Alex insisted.

Zach gave him a puzzled look. "Why does it matter to you what I believe? Isn’t what you believe the question you’re trying to ask?"

Alex leaned back into his seat, giving his friend a considering look, then nodding. "You’re right. I need to decide for myself without insisting on knowing what others believe."

"For what it’s worth, though, I do believe that Elves can exist. Whether they truly do, is something else again."

Alex grunted in reply and turned away to look out the window at the passing scenery and for a while they rode in silence. When they picked up the conversation again, they kept to more general topics about Alex’s progress in archery and Zach’s work as Loren’s administrative assistant.

Eventually they reached Bettles and Zach made his way to the small airport where they learned that the flight from Fairbanks would be arriving in about fifteen minutes. They watched the plane land and the passengers disembark, claiming their luggage at the bottom of the steps. Zach had brought a large sign with him with the name ‘BECKER’ written on it. As the passengers entered the terminal he held it up. Several people went by and then a woman with dark frizzy hair and a scowl walked up to them, lugging several pieces of luggage behind her.

"I’m Sheila Becker."

"Hello and welcome to Alaska, Mrs. Becker," Zach said. "I’m Zachary Austin, a friend of Shane."

"And my daughter couldn’t be bothered to meet me herself, her own mother?" the woman demanded, her accent definitely Brooklynese.

"Shane lost a filling and I left her at the dentist," Zach said smoothly. "This is my friend, Alex Grant. Can we take your luggage for you? My van is just outside."

Sheila Becker nodded her thanks and Alex quickly took possession of a couple of the bags while Zach grabbed the rest. They headed outside to the van and stowed everything away while Sheila Becker looked on with disapproval. "A filling," they heard her mutter. "I come all the way here and she loses a filling. The nerve of her."

Alex and Zach exchanged surprised looks and then Alex rolled his eyes as Zach grinned. "I’m sure she didn’t do it on purpose, Mrs. Becker," Zach said solicitously.

"You don’t know my daughter," she retorted and Alex could see Zach fighting to hold his tongue as they all climbed into the van.

If the ride to Bettles had been made in comfortable companionship between the two men, the ride back was definitely uncomfortable. Sheila Becker kept up a running monologue of complaints, clearly believing the world was conspiring to give her grief, from the fact that the plane from Fairbanks was a half hour late in leaving due to the weather to the fact that her own daughter had the temerity to lose a filling on the day of her arrival. Both men exchanged amused looks though Alex noticed that Zach’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, apparently holding himself back with great effort from contradicting the woman with regards to her daughter. Alex was beginning to regret accompanying Zach on this trip and he had a suspicion that Zach was regretting having volunteered in the first place.

The trip finally ended with Zach pulling up at the one hotel Wiseman could boast, the Goldmine Inn, and Alex busied himself with getting Sheila’s luggage out of the van with the help of a bellhop while Zach escorted the woman inside to register, promising the still complaining woman that Shane would be there as soon as possible.

"She didn’t have an appointment and would have to be squeezed in, so she may be awhile," he heard Zach explain.

Eventually Sheila Becker was safely registered and shown to her room. Zach gave her Shane’s phone number and explained that she shared the apartment with two others, giving their names. Then he and Alex left the still fuming woman to her own devices. Zach offered to drop Alex off at the mansion.

"Now I know why Shane was so upset when she learned her mom was coming to visit," Zach said as they climbed back into the van. Alex chuckled.

In a matter of minutes Zach was pulling up in front of the mansion and Alex thanked him for an interesting trip. "Though I could’ve done without that woman’s constant complaining. I wanted to tell you to pull over so we could chuck her out and make her walk to Wiseman."

Zach laughed. "You and me both. I’ll see you later." With that he drove off and Alex made his way back inside the house where he happened to meet Ron as he was hanging up his coat.

"Ah, there you are. We’d wondered where you’d gone to," the man said.

"I wasn’t aware that my comings and goings were of any concern of yours or anyone else’s," Alex said somewhat defensively.

The man frowned. "You’re not a prisoner, Alex, but our guest. We were just concerned, that’s all. You’ve been missing from action since lunchtime from what Darren said."

"Sorry. I didn’t mean to be gone so long. I was walking into town and Zach Austin drove by and offered me a lift and then I ended up going with him to Bettles to pick up his friend’s mom."

"Ah, yes, Shane. So, Mrs. Becker arrived all right?"

"Yes, and she never stopped complaining all the way back. If it wasn’t one thing it was another, but it mostly centered around the fact that Shane wasn’t there to meet her. She apparently lost a filling this morning and was at the dentist so Zach said he would pick her mom up. It was a very long trip back."

Ron chuckled. "I can just imagine. Now that you’re back, I think we should talk."

"About what?" Alex demanded warily.

"About you," Ron replied. "If you need to freshen up, do so, then please join me in the library."

"And if I refuse," Alex asked, keeping his tone neutral.

Ron shrugged. "That’s your decision, Alex, but if we’re to deal with the underlying reason for those nightmares, I think you would want to cooperate. I promise we will do nothing more than talk. We’re trying to help you, if you would just let us."

"Why?"

"Perhaps because we believe you’re worth saving," Ron answered. "I’ll be in the library if you care to join me." He sauntered off down the hall. Alex stood there for a few indecisive seconds and then followed in Ron’s wake, stopping at the downstairs lavatory for a moment before going to the library where he found Ron sitting in front of the fire apparently reading. Ron looked up and smiled as he entered, gesturing for Alex to come in even as he closed the book and put it aside. Alex closed the door and joined him by the fireplace. A table sat between them on which was a coffee urn and a couple of mugs. Ron poured some coffee into one of the mugs and handed it to Alex who thanked him.

"Darren said you were reading Dante when he found you this morning," Ron said as he poured some coffee for himself. "He told me something of the conversation you two had about him."

"And is Darren in the habit of telling everyone he meets about the contents of private conversations?" Alex demanded somewhat heatedly, rising to leave. "If so, I think I’ll just skip this one. God knows who you’ll go blabbing to."

"Sit down, Alex, and stop acting so put-upon." The words were quietly spoken yet there was a ring of authority to them that Alex could not ignore and he reluctantly resumed his seat, glowering at the flames.

"First of all," Ron said after a moment, "Darren said nothing to me about what you told him. He merely told me that you and he had an interesting conversation about Dante and his works. Second of all, I don’t go blabbing to anyone about anything that is told to me even in casual conversation, certainly not when I’m counseling another."

Alex looked up, still unconvinced. "And is this a counseling session? Sorry, I don’t recall making an appointment to see a shrink."

For a long moment Ron merely looked at him and while there was no sense of condemnation in his grey-eyed gaze, Alex had the strangest feeling that he’d somehow disappointed the man. He looked away, feeling suddenly ashamed of himself. Ron was only trying to help, and he knew he needed it, but all his defenses were up and he had no idea how to lower them. It wasn’t as if he’d never been in a counseling session before. It was mandatory for agents to see in-house psychologists on a yearly basis to discuss their feelings about their assignments and to address any emotional problems they might have. But somehow this felt different and he wasn’t sure in what respect, only that he was suddenly wary of the motives of those around him.

"Why are you doing this?" he suddenly asked, looking up. When Ron lifted an eyebrow in enquiry, he elaborated his question. "Why do any of you care what happens to me? I’m the enemy. So why do you all pretend to like me and want to help me?"

"We are not pretending, Alex," Ron answered. "Nor do we consider you our enemy. Oh, don’t get me wrong. We realize the threat you represent, not only to Ryan, but to all of us at Elf Academy, but we don’t see you as an enemy, merely as a potential ally."

"Do you seriously think I will ever ally myself with you people against my own government? Abandon my mission?" Alex demanded. "Ambrose or Ryan or whatever he’s calling himself these days may have gone rogue but I’m not about to."

"And yet, aren’t you already in defiance?" Ron asked. "How are you dealing with Mr. Farrell, for instance?"

Alex leaned back in his chair. "Mainly by ignoring him," he replied with a grim smile. "Oh, he gets a report from me every Friday just before noon without fail, but it’s always the same report. He may think he’s in charge, but I’m the agent in the field. I do as I see fit and no one, not even God himself, can tell me otherwise. Until I receive a direct command from Washington to pull out, I’m still in the game and I call the shots."

Ron nodded, his expression contemplative. Silence settled between the two of them for a few moments and Alex took a sip or two of his coffee. Then Ron gave him a considering look. "Tell me what happened at the tarn."

The mug slipped out of Alex’s suddenly nerveless fingers as the blood drained from his face and he started shaking. Only Ron’s quick reflexes in catching the mug saved him from being burned by the hot drink. Alex didn’t even notice. He was back in the tarn, and all around him was inky blackness.

Do you want to be rescued?.... be rescued?.... rescued?

The words echoed and re-echoed through his mind and soul.

"Alex... Alex...á entulë i-cálenna!’

Alex did not recognize the words, but he felt the power behind them and found himself blinking, and saw Ron kneeling before him, rubbing his arms. He suddenly realized he was freezing in spite of the fact that the fire was blazing warmly and he could not stop trembling. Ron stood up and walked to the door, opening it. Alex was vaguely aware that he was speaking to someone but he couldn’t quite catch what was being said. Then Ron returned with an afghan and, kneeling in front of him again, he covered him with it.

"It’s all right, Alex," he said soothingly. "You’re safe. No harm can come to you here. Keep breathing, child. It will be well, I promise."

There was a knock on the door and then someone entered. Alex had closed his eyes and did not see who it was, but he smelled a fresh scent that filled the air, recognizing the scent from the night before. He felt himself begin to relax, the trembling slowing. He opened his eyes with a sigh to see Roy standing beside him with a bowl of steaming water from which the scent arose, his face full of concern.

"That’s it, Alex," he heard Ron say. "Breathe and be refreshed. See you, the darkness has fled and the light returns."

Alex breathed deeply and the cobwebs of terror that had assailed him shredded away and he relaxed even more, leaning back into his chair, feeling suddenly tired. He may even have fallen asleep for a time, for when he came to himself again, he found that the room was now filled with people. Loren was there, along with Ambrose, Dan and Darren. They were standing away from him holding a soft conversation with Ron and Roy. It was Loren who noticed him stirring and they broke off their conversation. Ron resumed his seat and Loren brought a chair for himself. The others stood on either side of the fireplace, facing Alex.

"Feeling better?" Loren asked solicitously.

"As opposed to what?" Alex croaked, his throat parched. Ron poured some more coffee from the urn and handed it to him.

"It’s still hot," he assured him and Alex took a grateful sip, relishing the bitterness of the drink, which seemed to drive away the last of the cobwebs from his mind.

"You want to tell us about it?" Loren asked after a moment.

"Nothing to tell," Alex said. "Ron asked me what happened at the tarn and then I was suddenly back there, drowning." He gave them a frown. "Why is it that when I speak or think of it, nothing happens, but whenever anyone else does, I freak out?"

"And that is what we need to discover," Ron said. He turned to the others. "Any theories?"

For a moment no one spoke and Alex occupied himself with drinking the coffee. Then Ambrose stirred. "Conditioning," he said.

Alex looked up in surprise and the others gave Ambrose bemused looks. "Would you like to explain?" Loren asked with the lift of an eyebrow.

But Ambrose did not answer immediately. Instead, he moved to stand before Alex, forcing the younger man to look up. "I’m going to try something, if you will allow it."

"Try what?"

Ambrose shook his head. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

"I used to," Alex replied in a small voice.

Ambrose’s expression saddened. "Can you trust me a little longer, son?"

For a moment Alex only stared at his former mentor, memories of earlier times when a certain Ambrose Elwood took a young recruit under his wings and treated him like a son in truth coming to the fore. Never having known his father, Ambrose had become a father-substitute and he’d been grateful for the older man’s guidance and friendship. He remembered the feelings of loss at Ambrose’s supposed death and the sense of betrayal he still felt at the subterfuge.

"I loved you as if you were my own father," he whispered, more to himself than to the man standing before him, "and then you betrayed my love."

"And I have always regretted having to do so," Ambrose said softly. "Believe me, had there been any other way...." He shrugged and Alex could see the sincerity of the regret in his eyes.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked, implicitly letting Ambrose know that he forgave him.

"Nothing that will harm you," the man responded, "just something I want to try. It may help us understand what is happening to you."

Alex glanced at the others, all of them looking on dispassionately, their emotions hidden behind unreadable expressions. He realized that, for the moment, this was just between him and Ambrose. He looked at Ambrose again and nodded.

"Sit back and relax," Ambrose said, taking the coffee mug out of Alex’s hand and placing it on the table. "Breathe normally and look at me." Alex complied and between one blink and the next, Ambrose seemed to change before his eyes. At first he thought he was simply seeing the reflection of the fire illuminating Ambrose, but then he realized that the man was actually glowing. It was a faint aura but definitely there. He started to comment, but forgot about it as he stared into Ambrose’s eyes and felt himself drawn deeper and deeper into his gaze.

He felt a sense of panic rising in him as he realized he could not look away as much as he wanted to. Ambrose reached out with a single finger, touched his forehead, and whispered a word that Alex did not know and then everything went black....

****

"...planted that suggestion in his mind as part of his training."

Alex heard someone speaking but could not immediately put a name to the voice. His eyes were still closed but he could tell he was no longer sitting up but lying down. He tried to move and panic began to set in when he discovered he couldn’t. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring up at the library ceiling and then noticed that Dan, Roy, Ron and Barry were holding him down. He had no memory of Barry being there earlier and wondered how much time had passed and what had happened. Barry, kneeling on his left, saw him and smiled grimly.

"He’s awake," he said and immediately, Ambrose, Loren and Darren were there. Alex stared up at Ambrose in consternation.

"What happened?" he whispered hoarsely, and was surprised at the rawness of his throat.

"Let him up," Ambrose said and the four men released their hold on him. Barry and Dan helped him to his feet and as they led him to a chair he noticed that the room was a shambles with some of the furniture in splinters and several books thrown about. One of the tapestries was off the wall and crumpled in a heap where it had fallen. He noticed that some of the others sported bruises and he was feeling a bit bruised himself. Ambrose knelt before him, taking one of Alex’s wrists in his hand and feeling his pulse while Ron handed him a glass of water which he accepted gratefully.

"What happened?" he demanded a second time after draining the glass, handing it back to Ron.

"You remember during your training that you underwent hypnosis?" Ambrose asked.

Alex nodded. "The failsafe in case something happened and I needed to be subdued... or terminated."

Ambrose smiled. "Well, the trigger was a word that sounds very similar to ‘tarn’."

Alex stiffened, but Ambrose patted him on the arm. "It’s all right. I removed the suggestion. The word will no longer affect you."

"What was the word you used?"

"Tauron. Yes, I know it’s not quite the same, but I think what happened was that in the brief period of time when you died, the barriers around that suggestion were eroded. Originally, if I or another who knew that the trigger was ‘Tauron’ used it on you, you would’ve become incapacitated. Whenever someone said the word ‘tarn’, it was close enough in sound that it worked on you in a similar fashion."

"So what happened? Why were you all holding me down?"

Ambrose sighed as he stood up. "When I used the actual trigger word, you exploded. You did the opposite of what you were supposed to do. Your training took over completely and it’s only because of who we are that we were able to subdue you long enough for me to remove the trigger from your mind. Or, not remove it so much as modify it so you don’t suffer the same reaction whether you heard the word ‘Tauron’ or ‘tarn’."

"Who else knows the trigger word?" Loren asked, frowning.

"Only I know it," Ambrose replied.

"Oh? And how did you manage to get away with that?" Loren retorted.

"From the beginning, I knew Artemus was special. I do not have the same ability of foresight as is common among you Noldor but I had a sense that of all the humans I’d been forced to train in espionage, he was different and I made sure he continued being different. I’d long been entrusted to do what the Agency felt necessary to protect itself and its agents with the hypnotic suggestions that would help control them, so it was simple enough to tell them a different word than the one I actually used on Artemus. It was, I confess, the one and only time I ever used a word from Sindarin. Usually I just chose a rarely used word in English as the trigger and often enough, I used the same word with more than one agent. There’s a record, accessible to only three people in the Agency, with a list of the trigger words associated with each agent. If, for some reason, someone decided that they needed to use it on Artemus, they would’ve been rather surprised when it didn’t work." He gave Alex a grim smile as he looked down at him.

"So what does this mean?" Alex asked.

"For now, it simply means that you need not fear that any mention of the tarn will have an adverse effect on you," Ambrose said. "It means that we can deal with the underlying cause of the nightmares themselves without fear of setting you off one way or the other."

"Do you think I need to deal with the nightmares?" Alex asked, frowning. "Wouldn’t they go away now?"

"Unlikely," Ron answered for Ambrose. "Something happened to you in that tarn, Alex, something that still needs to be addressed, if you’re willing to let us help."

After a minute, Alex nodded, leaning his head back against the chair and closing his eyes. "Life was so much simpler when all I had to do was pretend I was a flaming terrorist," he said, feeling suddenly defeated for some strange reason. There were chuckles all around and he felt someone clap him on the shoulder. Opening his eyes he saw Loren looking at him with amusement, a faint smile on his face.

"Dinner will be ready in about an hour or so. Why don’t you go freshen up and then join us in the kitchen? You can sit there and cut up vegetables for the salad. Doing something that mindless should help steady you."

"Can I take a shower first?" Alex asked. "Suddenly I feel... unclean or something."

Loren glanced first at Ambrose and then at Ron who spoke. "An understandable reaction, but you are not unclean or tainted or however you want to put it. I want you to remember that. I do think, though, that a hot shower will help restore your equilibrium, so go ahead and have your shower, but then join us in the kitchen. I don’t think you should be alone yet."

Alex nodded and started to rise from the chair, his legs feeling shaky. Barry grabbed an elbow to steady him. "Why don’t I see you safely upstairs?" he suggested. "I’ll hang around in case you need help."

"Thanks," Alex said with a grateful smile.

Loren nodded at them. "We’ll see you in the kitchen in a little while then."

"Roy and I will clean up the mess here," Dan volunteered and Loren agreed as the rest headed out of the library with Barry keeping a solicitous hand on Alex’s elbow as they made their way up the stairs.

****

Á entulë i-cálenna: (Quenya) ‘Return to the light’.

Tauron: (Sindarin) ‘Forester’; also a title of Oromë, known as Araw among the Sindarin and Silvan Elves.