Epoch

by Timothy Carter

  “Hey!” said the creature as he held open the door for Vincent. “I see only two cups. Is someone going without?”

  “Yeah, you,” Vincent said, setting the tray down on the porch table. “That’s what you get for throwing sugar in my face.”

  “I’ll fetch you a cup in a moment,” Chanteuse said, taking the pot and filling the two cups. “I want you to meet my friend Vincent. Vincent,” she turned to him, “this is Grimbowl, an elf.”

  “An ... elf?” Vincent asked, offering the tiny creature a wave. “Does he bite?”

  “Do I bite?” the elf said, stung. “Do I bite? I look like a dog to you? I don’t bite, kid, but I’ve been known to kick!” And he did, hard and strong into Vincent’s left shin.

  “Ow!” Vincent cried, clutching his leg and hopping. “You little jerk!”

  “You want me to go for the other one?” Grimbowl asked.

  “You want me to go for your head?” Vincent replied, rearing his left leg back.

  “You two, stop,” Chanteuse said. “Let’s sit and have tea like peaceful beings.”

  Vincent put his leg down.

  And Grimbowl kicked it again. Vincent collapsed into a chair, howling with pain, and the elf laughed. Then, faster than Vincent would have thought possible, Grimbowl leapt off the porch and sprinted away into the bushes at the back of the yard.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Chanteuse said, putting down her tea and checking Vincent’s leg. “Elves are very mischievous creatures, but Grimbowl is usually better behaved.”

  “An elf,” Vincent said. “That’s a relief. I was worried he was something else.”

  “Did you think he was a demon?” Chanteuse asked with a smile.

  “How did you know?” Vincent said, stunned.

  “I’ve met your family, Vincent,” Chanteuse said, handing him his tea. “I know the fears they must have put in your head. Everything strange or out of the ordinary must be something evil, am I right?”

  “Pretty much,” Vincent said. “But how do you know it isn’t a demon? He could be deceiving you.”

  “Do you believe he’s a demon?” Chanteuse asked. “Don’t think. Just answer.”

  “No,” Vincent said. “What you’re telling me feels right. It’s just ... the Triumvirate warn that demons are everywhere, always trying to get us. I don’t want to believe that, but what if it’s ... ”

  “Any organization that encourages you to fear,” Chanteuse told him, “isn’t worth following. Remember that, Vincent.”

  Vincent smiled. This was exactly what he’d been hoping for. He told Chanteuse about the elf he’d seen at the school science fair, and she listened without interrupting.

  “I didn’t know what it was,” he finished, “so I came to ask you.”

  “I’m flattered you thought to come to me,” she said, and Vincent blushed. Being around her just felt good.

  “Elves usually avoid places where people gather,” Chanteuse went on. “And Grimbowl never used to come inside the house until a couple of months ago. He and the others would only talk to me in the backyard, and even then only because this house backs onto a park. In fact, when I first met the elves, they would only speak to me through the bushes.”

  “You know them pretty well,” Vincent said.

  “I only know what they tell me, which usually isn’t much,” Chanteuse told him. “Mostly they keep to themselves.”

  “You know any other weird creatures?” Vincent asked.

  “Only you, Vincent,” she replied.

  “You know what I mean!” Vincent cried, sloshing tea onto his pants. “Creatures like elves. Supernatural creatures like ghosts and goblins and fairies and man this tea is hot! Ow!”

  “All creatures are part of the natural world, Vincent,” she said. “Elves, ghosts, pixies, and others are as much a part it as you or I. For some reason, most people cannot perceive them. I think it is because they are unwilling.”

  “I can see them,” Vincent said. “At least, I can see elves.”

  “Good for you,” Chanteuse said. “Your mind is open, as I’ve always said. The world needs more people like you.”

  Vincent blushed again. “What about vampires?” he asked.

  “Don’t be silly,” Chanteuse replied. “Vampires are make-believe.”

  They drank their tea and continued to chat. Vincent asked her to tell him more about elves, and she told him what she knew.

  “Elves are like the first-nations peoples,” she explained. “They live in harmony with nature. They live longer than humans do, in some cases for thousands of years.”

  “Are they magical?” Vincent wanted to know.

  “Yes,” Chanteuse said. “They use the energy fields that occur naturally on our planet to blend in with their surroundings, another reason so few people see them. I think if Grimbowl really hadn’t wanted to be seen, you would not have seen him.”

  “Neat,” Vincent said. “What else can they do? Fly? Move objects with their minds?”

  “I truly don’t know,” Chanteuse said. “We’ll ask the next time we see one.

  “And now, Vincent, I must ask you to go. I have to get ready for work.”

  Vincent nodded, and together they cleaned up the tea. He felt worlds better for having talked to her. A strange feeling came over him; he knew something about the world that most people didn’t. He doubted even the Holy Triumvirate had met and talked with elves.

  Of course, they probably hadn’t been kicked in the shin by one, either. Vincent wasn’t sure if he’d made a friend or an enemy, but if Chanteuse liked Grimbowl then he was probably okay.

  “Where are you working these days?” Vincent asked as Chanteuse put the teacups away. His parents had been more than thorough in spreading bad words about her, so it was unlikely she was still a babysitter.

  “The grocery store at Dufferin and Steeles,” Chanteuse replied. “I’m a cashier.”

  “You mean that Alphega Corp. Superstore?” Vincent asked.

  “Yes, Vincent,” Chanteuse sighed.

  Vincent couldn’t believe it. Chanteuse wasn’t one to hate, but she really had it in for big corporations like Alphega. She’d told him about them once, back when she still babysat him. Vincent had asked if they could grab dinner at the nearby Steinburger’s, and Chanteuse refused him on moral grounds.

  “Steinburger’s is owned and run by Alphega Corp.,” she’d told him. “They are a very bad company, Vincent, and I will not support them.”

  “What’s so bad about them?” Vincent had asked. He was still at the age where nothing tasted as good as a fried hamburger.

  And so Chanteuse had told him. Told him about Alphega’s reliance on sweatshops in China to produce its goods. Told him how Alphega Superstores would put local stores out of business. Told him how badly they treated their employees. Then she told him where the meat from a Steinburger’s hamburger came from, and he threw up in the toilet.

  “I guess they pollute the environment, too,” Vincent had said as he wiped his mouth. Whenever Chanteuse talked about big corporations, usually it was because they were damaging Mother Earth.

  “Actually, no,” she’d said. “Their environmental record is spotless. It’s the one good thing I can say for them.”

  “So they’re not all bad?”

  “Not all bad,” Chanteuse had admitted, “but certainly not good.”

  “I thought you were dead-set against those guys,” Vincent said.

  “I am,” Chanteuse said, “but it was the only job I could find, and I need to support my mother.”

  “Right,” Vincent said, making a mental note to keep his parents away from that superstore at all costs. “I just hope they don’t treat you as badly as … hey, it’s Big Tom.”

  And indeed it was. Chanteuse’s house ba
cked onto a park, and through that park went a bicycle path. Walking along that path, his head down and his pace sluggish, was Big Tom.

  “He’s upset,” Chanteuse said. “His aura is dark blue.”

  “I’d better check on him,” Vincent said. “May I leave through the back?”

  “Certainly, Vincent,” Chanteuse said, then smiled brightly. “Thank you for stopping by. It was wonderful to see you again.”

  Vincent felt himself blush again. He offered her an awkward wave, then turned and ran through the bushes. A minute later, Vincent stood on the bike path beside his friend.

  “Big Tom,” he said, when his friend didn’t immediately notice him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Huh? Oh, hi Vincent,” Big Tom said, turning to look at him. When he did so, Vincent saw his friend had a fresh black eye.

  “Woah! What happened?” he asked.

  “What do you think?” Big Tom replied. “Barnaby Wilkins got me again.”

  “He did?” Vincent said. “Man, usually you’re too fast for him.”

  It was true. What Big Tom lacked in size and strength, he made up for in speed. Bullies who wanted a piece of him had to catch him first, and for many this simply wasn’t possible.

  “One of his bodyguards held me down,” Big Tom said.

  “Oh,” said Vincent, who’d had a brush himself with Barnaby Wilkins’s two minders. “Which one was it? Bruno, or Boots?”

  “Bruno,” said Big Tom. “I hate him. He’s the worst one.”

  Vincent could only nod in agreement. The school board wasn’t exactly crazy about any student having two bodyguards with them at all times, but Mr. Wilkins had convinced them to see things his way. Alphega Corp. provided funding for the school and food for the cafeteria, so when an Alphega executive like Francis Wilkins wanted a favor for his son, the school board really couldn’t say no.

  And when a teacher saw those bodyguards holding students down for Barnaby to beat, all they could do was look the other way.

  “Did Barnaby have a reason this time,” Vincent asked, “or was it just a random beating?”

  “He was gloating about winning the science fair,” Big Tom said, “so I said he only won because his dad bought him all that high-tech stuff. That’s when Bruno grabbed me.”

  “Are you hurt?” Vincent asked.

  “He got me good in the face,” Big Tom said, pointing to his black eye. “And he slugged me in the stomach, too.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Vincent said. “Why don’t you come over to my place for a while? My family won’t be back for a few hours, and I’ve got something really cool to tell you.”

  “You aren’t telling him anything.”

  Vincent recognized the voice instantly. He spun around and looked down, and saw Grimbowl staring up at him.

  “What is it?” Big Tom asked.

  “Keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you,” Grimbowl told Vincent. “You’re coming with us.”

  “Oh, am I?” Vincent said, assuming a defensive stance.

  “Yes, you are,” Grimbowl said, and Vincent suddenly realized they were surrounded by elves. There were about two dozen of them at least, blending in with the grass around them.

  “What are you looking at?” Big Tom wanted to know.

  “Them!” Vincent replied, gesturing all around him.

  “What, the grass?” Big Tom said.

  “No, you idiot!” Vincent said. “At the … ow!” He clutched at his shin and glared murder down at Grimbowl.

  “Did you hurt yourself?” Big Tom asked. “What happened?”

  And then Vincent understood. Chanteuse had said that few people could perceive elves. Big Tom simply couldn’t see them.

  “Your friend Vincent left,” an older and wiser-looking elf said to Big Tom. “He has gone home. You should, too.”

  “I think I’ll go home,” Big Tom said, and he began to walk away.

  “Big Tom!” Vincent cried, but his friend did not stop.

  “No one can help you now,” Grimbowl said. “Elves, take him.”

  While his best friend Big Tom walked away, blissfully unaware of what was going on, Vincent was set upon by elves. They swarmed all over him, their tiny hands grabbing and poking.

  “Get off me!” Vincent yelled, pulling at them and trying to fling them off. He struggled hard, but there were too many elves and they pulled him down. So far they weren’t using any weapons, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t.

  It seemed so unfair. Vincent had only just learned of a world beyond his own. Now it looked like he was going to die because of it.

  Well, not without a fight! The elves were pulling him down, so Vincent went with it and threw himself forward. He landed smack-dab on a whole bunch of surprised elves, knocking them all flat. The tiny little “oof” noises were music to Vincent’s ears.

  The elves recovered quickly, however. Vincent had forgotten their speed; in no time they tied his legs together and pinned him down on the ground. Vincent rolled himself over, dislodging a few elves and steamrolling a few others, but all too soon he was overwhelmed. The strength in their little arms was incredible, and their numbers too many. Seconds later, Vincent’s hands were tied as well. He was helpless, and at the elves’ mercy.

  “You are helpless and at our mercy,” the wise-looking elf said, “so cease your struggles.”

  “Let’s chop him into bits!” said an elf whom Vincent had rolled over.

  “Yeah,” agreed another as he helped his friend back up. “Then we’ll feed those bits to the birds.”

  “You will not!” Vincent said, struggling for all he was worth. The ropes felt like dandelion leaves, but they were really strong.

  “I said,” the wise elf said as he reached into his robe, “stop doing that.” He produced a little bag, and from there he pulled out a handful of dust.

  “We’re bringing him to the chief,” Grimbowl said as the wise elf blew the dust into Vincent’s face. “This kid might actually be the one we’ve been looking for.”

  If they said anything more, Vincent didn’t hear it. The moment the dust touched his face, he fell sound asleep.

  • • •

  When Vincent awoke, his head felt very heavy. He realized after a moment or two that he was hanging upside down. He snapped his eyes open, and saw a whole lot of tree.

  “What the … ” he said, twisting himself around to get a better look at his surroundings. He couldn’t see much, what with the lack of light, but he could just make out that he was hanging from a tree branch. He heard voices coming from above him, but they were too faint for him to make them out.

  “This isn’t good,” Vincent said, and gave his ropes a quick struggle. Nope, they were just as strong as before. He felt around for the knots, hoping to untie himself, but his fingers found none. If there was only some more light, he thought, then I might be able to see some way to escape.

  And then it hit him. It was dark because it was nighttime. He’d been out for so long that the sun had gone down. He had no way of knowing what the time was, which only made things worse. If he didn’t get home before his parents and brother, whatever these elves had planned for him would be a picnic compared with what they’d do.

  “Help!” Vincent cried. “Somebody help me!”

  “Well, look who’s awake.”

  It was Grimbowl’s voice, but Vincent couldn’t see him.

  “Help!” Vincent screamed. “I’m up in a tree, and … ow!” His jaw stung from what had felt like a kick.

  “Stop that,” Grimbowl said. “You’re wasting your breath, anyway. Nobody can hear you up in this tree.”

  “They can’t?” Vincent said.

  “All the leaves of this tree are affected by our magic,” Grimbowl said, and Vincent could just
make out the elf’s arm gesturing expansively at the branches. “It’s kind of like the dust Optar threw in your face. That stuff was set to make you sleep, just as the leaves are set to keep in sound.”

  “I see. Interesting,” Vincent said. And inconvenient for me, he thought. “How long have I been hanging here?”

  “About three hours,” Grimbowl told him.

  “Three hours?” Vincent barked. “Let me down from here right now!” He renewed his struggling, panic overriding common sense.

  “Stop that,” Grimbowl said, kicking Vincent’s face again. “You’ll never break free. The grass we made the ropes from are set to not break.”

  “Stop kicking me,” Vincent said, his body swinging back and forth from the blow. “I have to get home, or I’ll be in deep trouble.”

  “You’re already in deep trouble,” Grimbowl pointed out.

  “Not as deep as I will be,” Vincent said.

  “Aren’t you the least bit scared of what we’re going to do with you?” Grimbowl asked.

  “Not really, no,” Vincent replied. In truth, he simply hadn’t made time to worry about it. Currently, all his brain had space for were the consequences of getting home late.

  Although, now that he thought about it, being hung from a branch of a soundproofed tree by fantasy creatures who might decide to kill him wasn’t exactly a cakewalk.

  “You’re even dumber than I thought,” Grimbowl said. “Are you sure he’s the one you saw, Plimpton?”

  “Yes,” said a voice from behind Grimbowl. “He’s the one from that school science fair.”

  Vincent’s eyes were adjusting to the dark, and he could make out Grimbowl’s form standing on a platform built into the tree. The new speaker appeared from the shadows behind Grimbowl, and he moved to stand beside him.

  “He looked right at me, saw me,” Plimpton went on. “He must be one of the more open-minded humans.”

  “Then he is perfect,” said another voice, and a third elf joined the group.

  “Who are you?” Vincent asked. The new elf sounded wise and old, just like the one who’d konked him with the fairy dust.