The Rise of Onyx Page 7

  Griffin awkwardly nods, and then becomes painfully aware that Evander cannot see his every move - only what is available from the monitor in the Grand Hall. “Affirmative - I will take care of myself the best I can without arousing any concern from the humanoids.”

  “Exactly. That is indeed the best course of action at this time. The moment we are looking for is still quite a ways away, I believe, as she is only being made aware of her parent’s plans as we speak. You are more than welcome to, quite literally, hit the hay for the night if you’d prefer. You must be quite tired from your miraculous journey through time!”

  “Indeed, I feel quite exhausted for sure. Thank you for your help, Evander. I will see you soon, I surely do hope.” He ends the call on his wrist device and stealthily moves toward a nearby garden to pluck some not-quite-ripe tomatoes off of a vine. Sinking his teeth into the hard skin and the still-bitter juice of the fruit, he spits it out and begins looking for a suitable alternative. Finding a loaf of bread on the ground, he can barely believe his luck as he grabs it and begins consuming it voraciously. What he doesn’t see, is the small child who dropped it there for him.

  CHAPTER 4

  Onyx’s tears begin rolling down his face even before Evander notices and clicks off the live feed signal from Griffin’s transmitter. Shifting his weight awkwardly, he waits until Onyx composes himself to comment.

  “Are you… okay?”

  Onyx meets his gaze intensely, seeming to be both having a lot to say and wanting to say nothing at all. “I will be…just fine, Evander. I’ve just… never laid eyes on her before. Seeing her face… and her family… my family. It’s… a lot to process.”

  Evander looks over to where Luna is seated near his throne, and notices the subtle glint of tears forming at the corner of her eyes as well. “I hate seeing him suffer like this. And I hate seeing you suffer like this too.”

  Luna shrugs in response to Evander, and he continues waiting for Onyx to comment further on what they have just seen.

  “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” Onyx’s hair glows, and then dims, a vestige of living color spreading onto the rest of his being and the surrounding walls of the Grand Hall as well.

  “Luna, look at me.” Luna lifts her head in his general direction, but hesitates to meet his gaze. “No, I mean really look at me. Please?” His tone softens as he senses her pain, and forces himself to smile even amidst his own discomfort.

  “I’m trying, I just wish… none of this happened. I wish… you were allowed to live. I wish, we were…”

  Onyx nods, understanding her all too well, as Evander respectfully looks away. “I’ll give you two a moment.” He collects his equipment and then leaves the large room momentarily.

  “Would it have mattered?”

  Onyx pauses. “Would what have mattered, Luna?”

  She swallows before clarifying her thought. “Would it have mattered… if we both lived? Why weren’t we allowed to?”

  He sighs. “Earth is very, very twisted in that way. Unfortunately, the arrival of a child is not always met with joy and excitement. Sometimes - many times, such news is extremely inconvenient and problematic, to put it moderately.”

  “How so? I was… just a person. How much could have gone wrong?”

  Onyx rests his face in his hands, and continues to sob through his words. “Luna, I can assure you, if you had studied anthropology on Earth the way I have, you’d understand. Humanoids are vastly complex creatures with more subtle nuances and caveats than any document or digital system in the Upperworld. Many times, cultural and religious expectations play a large role in their expectations. I have a hunch… that’s exactly what happened here. With my mother. And then, as a result, with you.

  ✷✷✷

  “We’ve found you a suitor.”

  I nearly choke on the bite of food I just placed in my mouth. “Excuse me?”

  Both Father and Mother nod excitedly. “Indeed - Silas Brewster. Isn’t that quite wonderful? The Brewster clan has held great wealth and power through their iron smith business, and have upheld wonderful reputations amongst everyone they know. This will bring glory to both families in the eyes of God, as well as ensure a proper future for you - which wouldn’t include useless hours teaching at the school house, I might add.”

  Matching smiles spread across their faces while my own face feels utterly paralyzed in shock and dread. Fae looks equally upset on my behalf, but also remains silent. Baby Jedidah just continues nibbling contentedly on a piece of bread.

  “Mother, Father?”

  They smile at me, hanging on my every word. “I don’t fancy Silas.” I wait for their reaction, and brace myself for the impact. They exchange troubled glances as I refrain from saying anything more.

  “What exactly do you mean, you don’t fancy Silas?” Father’s frown is accompanied by a furrowed brow, and he taps his fingers on our oak-topped kitchen table perpetually. The tapping mimics the pounding of my heart and suddenly the silence in my head feels much louder than the words that we are likely to share between us. I gulp, waiting for my thoughts to take shape in a way that wouldn’t positively throw my home life into utter turmoil.

  “Father, I do not want to be betrothed to Silas.” I close my jaw in a calm defiance, fighting the urge to run out of the room and cry. At least not yet, anyway.

  “Constance, I am greatly saddened to hear of your discordant feelings surrounding the matter. I truly did want you to be happy about the arrangement.”

  I release some of the tension in my shoulders. Father seems to be hearing me out, maybe he’ll understand. Maybe I won’t be stuck with that fat pig forever. Maybe I have hope.

  “Unfortunately, the binding promises have already been made. I sold them three cows to pay your dowry.”

  My breath catches in my throat. “What? But Father, that’s not… I can’t. Surely you can suggest some kind of reparations to be made? Father, please…” I begin whimpering as the tears quit threatening to fall down my cheeks and end up parading down them against my will. My voice wavers, and my whole body shivers. I’m not sure if it’s anger, or fear. Probably both.

  “Constance, my hands are tied. You are betrothed to Silas Brewster, and you shall marry in about two week’s time.”

  I am shocked silent, and I feel absolutely sick at this news. I grasp for anything to at least delay the inevitable. “But Father, the schoolhouse - I haven’t found my replacement yet. The students will need to be taught until my replacement is found.”

  Father nods. “I am quite aware of that fact, which is why I asked your mother to ask around on your behalf. It appears that the Smith family has a daughter just a year or two younger than you, and she is quite equipped for the job. You don’t need to concern yourself with that anymore. You will say goodbye to the schoolchildren by the end of next week.”

  I look at Mother with desperate eyes, but she seems unable to meet my gaze. Suddenly the spice rack next to the hearth appears to hold more importance than her agonizing daughter. Without seeing a way out, I excuse myself from the table and retire to my room for the evening.

  “I’m suddenly not very hungry.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Griffin is eating the loaf of bread quite loudly as the fluffy dough satisfies his hunger. As he is about halfway through the loaf, he feels the uncanny sensation that he is being watched, so he looks up from the bread in the direction that he can feel it from. And sure enough, he is met with a pair of very young, brown eyes fixated on his very noticeable, light-blue suited form.

  “Hello. I’ll just be going now.” Griffin inches as far away as he can possibly get, around the corner of the building he was standing near. But the child follows him. He looks to be around maybe ten years old, and is dressed similarly to the other humanoids, in some form of work clothes, most likely.

  “Who are you?” His voice hits Griffin’s ears like the foreboding sound of a hurricane in the distance.

  “I’m, well, nobody. I’m just pas
sing through. Goodbye.”

  “Hey Nobody, you’re dressed different. Why?”

  Griffin turns back around slowly, and then looks down at his own clothing in comparison to that of the child’s. “It’s just my style. No reason.” He turns around to walk away with his bread, and is relieved to hear silence in his wake. That is, until the child grabs onto his ankle and prevents him from leaving.

  “That is my foot. I have no business here, so I am leaving. Please let go.” Griffin tries his best to shake him off, but to no avail. The child appears to be stuck on his ankle as securely as the jaws of life.

  “I’m not letting go until you tell me who you are, Nobody.” The brown eyes glare at him from their lower vantage point, boring into his own eyes.

  “Okay, then I’ll tell you who I am.” Griffin pauses just long enough to think of a suitable answer. “I’m a helper. Who was sent here. To do important work. All right? Now get off.” Griffin isn’t normally combative, but in this moment, he feels he has no other choice than to be a little tougher.

  “Not until you tell me who you are helping, and why.”

  “That wasn’t the agreement though!” Griffin is becoming visibly upset now, as his fists are clenching and unclenching at his sides, one if them still holding the half-eaten piece of bread.

  “Calm! It’s time for supper. Come home!” Griffin looks across the street to see a woman standing outside the front door of her home, glancing toward the child anchored on his leg. She stands as defiantly as her child is trapping him. “I’m serious Calm, the stew is getting cold! Come along now.” She taps her foot in frustration. “Who is that over there? Calm?” Griffin sees her walking down the three steps from their small front porch and marching toward her child. If she gets too close to Griffin, he knows he’s a goner. Or the entire historical narrative may be, if it wasn’t already. With a sudden burst of well-timed energy, he manages to break free while the child is distracted, and make a break for the nearby field. Their conversation floats near his ears as he makes a hasty getaway.

  “Calm! Who was that peculiar man?”

  “I dunno, Ma. He just said he was Nobody. And some sort of a helper.”

  ✷✷✷

  “Onyx, it seems Griffin has been spotted by a couple of humanoids.”

  His flaming hair glows the brightest it’s ever been, as he winces from the burning sensation it produces.

  “What? How? Did you not tell him to be careful about that? He could throw everything off!” Onyx appears visibly ill-at-ease, and for good reason. Time travel is so unwieldy, and even the slightest change in any moment could ruin human history as a whole. And oftentimes, it could happen when it is least expected.

  “I absolutely did, I can assure you of that.” Evander rubs his hand through his hair. “It’s just… unpredictable. He can only be so careful, some things are out of his control.”

  Onyx nods, but still appears upset. “It’s just scary is all. How many possible variables there are. How completely and utterly foggy the concept of existence is. It’s enough to boggle the mind ten times over..”

  Evander looks at Luna next to him, and then they both shift their glances back to Onyx. “Well, I suppose that’s true. I just always followed the rules, never gave it any real thought beyond that.”

  Luna nods in agreement. “Me too, Onyx. I always just did exactly what you told me to, you know? I never thought much of it. I also never really believed there was much I could do to really change anything at all.”

  Onyx strokes the pale skin of his chin while thinking about the ideas and words flowing between the two people in existence that he has the strongest emotional ties with. “Do you believe in the alternate universe theories?”

  “I’m not sure, it’s… highly theoretical. Just as theoretical as time travel, I’d say.” Evander scratches the back of his own neck.

  “Well, we managed to figure out time travel, so it just goes to show you that nothing is impossible, really.” Luna pipes in, with the interest visibly sparkling in her violet eyes.

  “It’s just something I’ve always wondered about. The idea that there are other realities in infinite numbers, just like this one… it’s riveting.”

  Luna nods. “But, is that actually important for anything right now? I don’t really see a use for that like we did for time travel.”

  “I suppose you’re right… but it doesn’t hurt to be aware of such possibilities. Maybe such thoughts can free us from the traps we have set for ourselves. We are always so terrified of changing the course of human history. But, why are we, really? Does it matter if things change from the way they were intended? Is the evolution of the grand narrative really that bad?” His blue eyes glow brighter and brighter as the thoughts take hold in his head.

  “Onyx, not to rain on your parade but… there’s so much more to it than that. Human lives exist in and around each other. If the story changes, then people that would have been born may not be. And drastic changes like that have massive ripple effect potential. The entire Upperworld was thrown into an absolute frenzy when an orb was sorted incorrectly. Surely you wouldn’t wish that to happen again.”

  The glow dims from his eyes, and Luna slumps back into her chair.

  CHAPTER 6

  I stay in my bedroom for the rest of the night. I just needed time. Time to think, time to process everything. I’m not shocked that this is happening, but I hate that I’m being forced. It makes my entire body shake with an anger I didn’t know I would be capable of possessing.

  Since I was about maybe six or seven years old, my parents have raised me with the full knowledge that I would be given away to a boy at some point. I was never given an exact time frame, though. And I absolutely wasn’t expecting it now - after all, I only just turned sixteen a few weeks ago. Well, then again, that may have just been because I was living in denial. A couple of my friends were already married - Hope was betrothed and married to Humility Wilson last year. They were nervous about it at first, but they ended up loving each other, so I convinced myself it was a cute enough story. But now I know I was just trying to give myself a chance at a brighter future than what I was given.

  I wanted more than just being a housewife. I loved drawing, even though mother tells me that’s far too vain. I keep a sketchbook and pencils under my bed and draw in my spare time. I’ve been told by my students that I’m pretty good at it, and over time, I started to believe them. Then my imagination really took over, and I began to think that maybe I might be able to be a famous artist someday. It’s frivolous, I know. Silly, even. But I can’t shake the feeling that a marriage right now would mean the death of that dream. And I am absolutely sure, without a shadow of doubt, that marrying Silas would kill every bit of myself. Letting a dream die is hard enough, but marrying that boy, I knew, would relegate me to a mere shell of what I once was. That is, implying that I ever was anything notably important - which sometimes, I felt that I wasn’t.

  There have been days when I have absolutely loved everything about my family and life. I loved Fae and baby Jedidiah, of course. But our parents are so misguided - just like the rest of the compound. Everyone here is so bizarre. I’ve heard of people in other parts of the world who married for love. And the rich and wealthy waited until they were a bit older as well. How monstrous of a misfortune it is to have to hurry life along at the pace of a rabbit’s heart beat, with a fat, ugly, blob-like betrothed who wanted nothing but warm meals and what lies below my waistband. It’s disgusting, all of it.

  I awoke early this morning, screaming into my pillow, attempting to muffle the sound enough to avoid waking my family. A quick look out my window reaffirms what I assumed to be true, that my whirling thoughts and anxiety of my impending psychological death continue to exist and weren’t merely a bad dream. The morning was about to dawn, but by my approximations, it would be a little while before the Saturday morning chores were expected to begin. On non-school days, I had the luxury of a slightly later start to my day. And today,
I knew just who I needed to talk to.

  Tiptoeing around my room, I quietly dress myself, pulling on my undergarments, petticoat and apron. As early as the hour is, I opt to leave my head covering on its hook, as a subtle act of defiance. Besides, I knew who I was going to visit, and she definitely would not mind that my head was left uncovered. And given my plight as of late, I know she’ll know just what to say to make it better, somehow.

  I open the front door of our home, wincing as the creaky door makes itself known. Mother has been reminding Father to grease that for ages, but he’s been far too busy with the spring planting. I smile to myself as I manage to close the door behind me without any frustrated footsteps following it, and then make my way down the sleepy street as people are beginning to start their day in the wee hours of the morning before the sun rises.

  The deep purplish sky over my head shows the passing of time, and I make a mental note to be back at home before the sun completely rises. I fully enjoy the fresh, crisp feeling of the spring morning air on my scalp, and I allow myself to gratuitously undo the tight braids that I slept in. Shaking my long light-blonde hair free of itself, I can’t help but smile at the way I feel so free. That’s quite ironic, of course, given the circumstances. But true, all the same.

  The leather soles of my homemade shoes hit the stone-covered pathway into town, where I knew Rafaela would be setting up her apothecary shop for the market today. She only rolls into the compound on the weekends, but I always made an effort to see her when I could. Since she doesn’t live here, and seems to live under her own terms instead of terms imposed upon her, I’ve always seen her as kind of a role model. I’d break out of this compound if I could and run far, far away. But I have no place to go, and the realist in me knows all too well that those ideas are far better left as unfulfilled daydreams.