Death of the Body

by Rick Chiantaretto

  Through the thousand pricks of fear exploded a moment of realization: we were going to be discovered and then probably killed. I thought about Ralph—if he was any lower on the hill than we were he might already be caught. It felt like a long time had passed since he pulled me from the burning tree but it had been only hours.

  Only fire cast by magic could have followed you back through the roots, his words came to me, followed by the words of this awful test, Pretend your fist is a pot, with the blade sticking up.

  If the events of this day were like dominoes stacked carefully in a line, those words were the catalyst that started them tumbling. If those dominoes fell in time, drawing the plans to a perfect scheme, their tumbling would reveal the artist behind those events.

  A memory flashed through my mind, one of my happiest memories. My parents, both smiling, had taken me to a symphony a few years ago. Their faces were so excited to watch mine light up as I experienced live music combine with the songs of the planet. I found myself particularly captivated by the conductor who controlled the music. He timed the instruments with the vibrations of the planet. Without him, there could be no orchestration. My parents called him “the grand maestro.”

  I shuddered violently as I began to understand the awful orchestration that had unfolded here. There was only one explanation, only one reason our town could have been destroyed by magical fire, only one reason these men would know our secrets: we had been betrayed. My shuddering stopped as my vision became perfectly clear. Only one of our own could have cast the flames that followed me back through the roots of Mother Tree. Only one of our own could have taught the humans how to distinguish us from them. And there was only one of our own who was still somewhere here, lurking in the shadows of the forest, or perhaps in the town. Our betrayer, the conductor, the grand maestro of betrayal, was Joshua.

  Four

  I didn’t have time for tears but they came anyway. They had threatened so many times during this ordeal that I finally couldn’t fight them. I tried to push my emotion into the planet and failed. Something in me finally broke. I felt alone. Even if Joshua came for us, we wouldn’t be saved. I didn’t know where my people were or if any of them were still alive.

  Sobs rolled through my body while hot tears ran down my face. My breath was ragged. I cried for my people. I cried for our betrayal. I cried because I didn’t know what else to do.

  My eyes were too blurred to notice when heavy boots were standing in front of me, but I felt someone rest their hand lightly on my head before speaking. I was too exhausted to care, so I didn’t flinch. This was it. This was the moment I would be caught, but I was overcome by apathy.

  “Hey, kid, you okay? What happened?”

  I was startled enough by the familiarity of the voice that one of the sobs rolling through my body caught in my throat. I rubbed the tears from my eyes so I could see clearly, recognizing the face of the man who was now crouched over me. It was the man from earlier at my house, Max’s owner.

  It took me a minute to realize he thought my tears were for Max. I looked down at the black heap in my lap and curled my hand through the thick black hair. Max’s eyes were closed, the limp body cold under my touch. Tears sprang back to my eyes, this time for a friend I’d known just long enough for him to save my life.

  The man, Clayton, if memory served, had compassion in his eyes. “Come on, let’s get back to the house,” he said. “It isn’t good for you to be out here now.”

  I glanced down at Max.

  “Leave him,” Clayton answered, his voice soft. “I’ll take care of him after you are asleep.”

  I knew that following this man back into town would ensure my survival for at least a little while, so I stood and followed him down the hill.

  I watched as the general’s eyes followed us closely.

  “I know the boy. He is not who we seek,” Clayton stated as we passed him. The testimony seemed to ebb any suspicion.

  When we reached the town gates, I glanced back toward the hill. From this vantage point, Ralph’s red hair stood out like a bush on fire. I was glad to see he had found Hailey. They were sitting together and managed to make their way up toward the tree line, putting the maximum distance between them and the small army descending upon the children. Still, I knew I had to do something to help.

  Clayton noticed my hesitation. “Come on, boy. The other kids will be fine.”

  I wondered how much longer he would remain unsuspicious while misreading my actions. What would he do to me when he found out I wasn’t the human he thought I was? Nevertheless, for the time being I was strangely grateful to this man.

  I used the opportunity, the moment Clayton thought I felt concern for the children, to attempt the salvation of two of them. I knew there was no way to get Hailey and Ralph out of the situation without being caught. I had seen Hailey’s plant sprout from between her fingertips and imagined that those new sprouts also had sprouts. Once her plant was seen, she would be exposed. If Ralph had been foolish enough to pluck his own blade of grass, it would be in the same condition. There was only one way I could think to disguise them. It wouldn’t require a spell, just a favor—and a messenger.

  I was immediately aware of the wind around me. It was calm, but fluid and cool as it brushed by my hot cheeks. I allowed myself to be encircled by it until I could almost hear where it had come from, almost see the fields and mountains it had passed through to get here, almost smell the sweet moisture it carried from faraway rivers and lakes. Then I asked it to carry a message. I added my words to the tastes, sounds, smells, and sights it already carried. Ask them to grow, I told it. Ask them all to grow. Then, for Hailey and Ralph I hastily added, I will meet you at the ruins.

  As my words were carried off, I turned back to the town, my town, and quickened my pace. I had just stepped back onto the cobblestone street when I began to hear stifled gasps. I knew what was happening: every blade held in the hand of every child was sprouting; every one was growing. I thanked Mother Earth for honoring my request and asked her to watch over my friends.

  When we got back to the house, I made Clayton some onion and potato soup from the vegetables in the cellar. Kind as this man was to me, I was still nothing more than a servant to him.

  The soup was not the feast I had been hoping for in the wagon this afternoon, but it was quick to make. I set my empty bowl on the wooden table and stared intently as drops of broth fell from the well-kept hair around Clayton’s chin.

  “May I ask you a question?”

  Clayton held out his bowl to me in response. I wasn’t sure what to make of the look on his face, so I refilled the bowl and asked the question anyway.

  “I heard a lot of the children tonight talking about someone named Joshua.”

  Clayton’s eyes narrowed in response. Somehow he managed to grunt and swallow at the same time.

  “They said he isn’t… human.”

  Now he chuckled. “He’s human enough. The people that lived here before us were dangerous. Conniving little gnomes they were. Joshua was one of their leaders; he helped us purge this town. No need to be afraid of him. He’s a friend to us.”

  I took our bowls to the sink and acted like I was cleaning up so that I could turn away from him and brace for the next answer. “So the people who lived here before? They’re dead?” I bit my lip.

  I certainly didn’t expect Clayton to laugh, but he did. “Boy, those kids in that orphanage must tell some stories. Let me set the record straight so you don’t have nightmares. The people that lived here before were sort of… magical… you know? They respond to herbs and stuff. Most could be controlled.”

  Most. The word was emphasized in my head, but at least there was hope. Still, I had to get him to finish the thought. “Most?” I asked. “How did the control work? What about those who couldn’t be controlled?”

  “Don’t ask too many questions about magic. You wouldn’t understand anyway.”

  Try me, I thought, but kept my expression inquisit
ive.

  “And as for those who couldn’t be controlled? Well kid, that wasn’t my job.”

  He avoided my question, so I tried a different approach. “Magic? Like what happened tonight with the other kids? Do you think Joshua did that?”

  Clayton visibly stiffened. “No. Joshua has been at the parliament building in meetings with us all night.”

  Now I stiffened. I had hoped Joshua had been killed or “controlled,” too. After all, I couldn’t think of any reason why the humans would still need him. But he was still alive, in the town, and I was right where he had told me to wait for him.

  Clayton once again misread my expression. “Don’t worry about it. Whoever cast the spell tonight will be caught. Joshua will see to that. And I’m here. You’ll be sleeping just one room over.”

  My body was exhausted but I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I had to come up with another excuse to disappear.

  I knew exactly where I would go. No one in town knew what my father did except him and the patriarch—the appointed leader of our people. Because of the secrecy of his work, his office was located in the parliament building, near the back, toward a far corner. The entrance was hidden. He’d shown me his office once before; I was certain I could find it again. My mind sifted through images of the partially destroyed building. I was sure my father’s office was on the side that hadn’t been damaged.

  At this thought my heart skipped a beat. If my father had been working during the attack, or if he had escaped, he could be in his office right now waiting for me.

  Clayton eyed me pensively. Again I had to push down the bubbling fear in my stomach as I worried that my face had given away my thoughts. Thankfully, this man seemed oblivious. “I know you don’t want to talk about it,” he said, changing the subject, “but I would like to know what happened to Max.”

  Sadness tugged at the corners of my mouth, an emotion that never really left me, but had been subdued in the whirlpool of others currently swirling throughout my body. Grief rose to the surface more forcefully now, making the small house we were in seem empty without Ralph and Hailey. I was afraid for their safety. That fear reminded me of the energumen. I was afraid of them. That fear, in turn, reminded me of Max. It was a vicious cycle.

  “I think he was bitten by a snake,” I responded, rubbing my eyes to ease the sudden headache that blurred my vision.

  I heard Clayton push himself up from the table and walk two steps toward the door. “Well, I’m going to go take care of him then. You get some sleep, boy. You look tired.”

  My ever-sliding range of emotions wasn’t helped by Clayton’s civility toward me. It was hard to imagine such a man had played part in the destruction of my people. Yet the only hatred I could find for him was in imagining what he would do if he knew who I really was. Could I afford to doubt what would happen if he learned the truth? Could it be possible for him to look at me with understanding? Were humans truly a race of monsters? I had to accept that if my people consisted of both good and bad, then it was possible for humans to fall into the same ratio.

  Then again, what kind of compassion would I show an energumen who pretended to be a member of my race, only to reveal to me his true form? If humans viewed me as I viewed them, then fear would win out. No matter the amount of love originally felt, it would be forgotten as soon as truth was spoken.

  I waited until I could no longer hear Clayton’s footsteps marching heavily along the cobblestone that twisted to the city gates. I waited a few minutes more to make sure he wouldn’t return. I knew that once he had taken care of Max’s body and returned to discover I was no longer in the house, any trust I might have established with him would be broken. It wouldn’t take long for the entire human population to begin looking for me. There was no coming back this time.

  Had I been thinking more clearly I would’ve packed extra food and a change of clothes instead of leaving with nothing but what I had on. The knowledge that I was waiting exactly where Joshua knew I was spurred my feet into action. I would rather face any human as the child they would mistake me for, than face Joshua as the mage he knew I was.

  My feet were light and quick on the dark alleys as I made my way to the parliament building. I kept my pace slow enough that anyone watching wouldn’t have reason to suspect I was up to something. I surmised that a boy running through the streets would draw too much attention, so I only allowed myself to sprint briefly through the back passages where the streetlamps’ flickering glow refused to reach.

  My heart thudded in my chest as the great white building rose higher the nearer I got to the center of town. I saw the beautiful lawns again. We always kept the grass maintained, but not perfectly, so that it was long enough to ripple in the wind. The trellises of white flowers lining pathways were built as homage to the chaotic yet geometric shapes we found in nature. Now most of the trellises were blackened by fire. The smell of ash was as strong here as it had been in my vision, but a light breeze carried other scents that mingled strangely into a smell that was almost euphoric, like a campfire in the mountains surrounded by evergreen and aspen trees.

  A group of men were working on the northeast corner of the building repairing the masonry. Almost every window inside the building was ablaze, so they had plenty of light by which to work.

  I had underestimated the number of humans here tonight. If there were enough of them to warrant using every room in parliament, plus those that were staying in the intact houses, they were more than a few clusters of peons getting the town ready for the real invasion, they were the kingdom that inherits the goods an army procures. They must have numbered in the thousands since at least that many could fit in the parliament building.

  The fact that I wasn’t going to be able to avoid contact with humans wasn’t enough to make me change my plans, just enough to make me edit them a bit. I turned down the stone walkway and circled around to the south end of the building, facing the meager side of town. I doubted that human pride would allow them to stay in cramped quarters unless they had no other choice. This meant fewer humans to encounter. It would make for a little longer trip in the dark, but I wouldn’t have to cross as many of the marble hallways once inside of the building.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised to see children once I got to the south side of town. I expected the orphans to be housed in the school where Ralph, Hailey, and I had lived since we were six. There was a large communal space there for teaching as well as joint dormitories. The surprise came when I discovered the children were crowded into three tiny, connected lofts that we had used for those who didn’t require many resources—singles who could take care of themselves, couples with no young children, or those who couldn’t prove useful to our society, like those with disabilities or the elderly who had not learned a trade that would be taught to the younger generation. I couldn’t help but do the math: sixty or so children in three lofts meant there were twenty or more per loft. I was glad no one was around to see the disgusted look on my face.

  My father’s office was on the southeast side of the building. In order to get there—or at least to remember how to get there—I would have to enter the southwestern doors. When my father brought me a few years ago, we entered through the main lobby on the north. There was a large central hallway that connected to the southern wing where we turned east. I had to find that juncture again if I was going to have any luck.

  The pace I set was a compromise between speed and stealth. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself. I spied an empty hallway through the large glass doors. I tugged on one of them and crossed through into a sea of marble. Large, brightly lit chandeliers hung from the intricately designed and inlaid ceiling. The light reflected throughout the long white corridor, but instead of looking sterile and stark, the hallways glimmered with warmth.

  I heard low murmurs like distant echoes, but the voices blended and I couldn’t make out what was being said. I wasn’t sure how far away the voices were from me, but the hallway I was standin
g in was deserted.

  Evenly spaced potted trees reached toward the ceiling, lining the hallway, alternating with evenly spaced mirrors stretching from floor to ceiling. Everything in this building was ornate, from the gold crown molding to the masonry of the pots. The trees were perfectly trimmed into towering cones of leaf (some species of tree preferred to be trimmed as it made them feel more proper). I was always easily distracted when I was allowed in this building (and I was only allowed when I was accompanied by my father). There was so much to look at: the doorknobs, the framing, the swirls in the marble floor. It was all perfect.

  Tonight, the only thing I examined was my reflection in the mirror. My hair was sloppy, my eyes were dark and hard, and my clothes were too big for my frame. No wonder the woman from the orphanage mistakenly confused me for one of her children. There was a bulge in my shirt pocket. I remembered the acorn I’d promised to plant in this town for Mother Tree. That was one more thing I’d have to do before leaving for the ruins tonight.

  The entire survey took less than a second before I moved again. I passed a few closed doors without considering whether they were locked or if people were inside. I counted myself lucky none of them stood open, filled with humans who might see me, ask questions, or become angry. Worse, they could discover that I wasn’t one of them.

  I stopped to estimate my position in the building. A hallway intersected with my current corridor, but this hallway was too slender to be the main one I had walked through with my father. The second was wide enough, but angled sharply after a few hundred feet; it didn’t extend all the way through the building to the northern lobby.

  It wasn’t until the fifth intersection that I stopped, letting out a quiet sigh. This hallway had chandeliers that were larger than the rest. Their crystal facets cast brilliant rainbows. The largest of these chandeliers was down the hall, all the way on the other side of the building, where it was centered in the main lobby. People darted back and forth from room to room underneath it. From this distance, they looked as tall as my hand, but their voices echoed down the hall loudly. Most of the conversations sounded stressed.