by Antony John
A movement from the shadows pulled me around. The two elderly clan folk lingered in the space behind the stairs, waiting for their loved one to be cured. Even with me watching them, they never took their eyes off the man. Or was it Griffin who commanded their attention? It took me a while to read their expressions, simultaneously distrustful and needy; the same expressions I’d seen on the people waiting outside. The scene playing out before them wasn’t a miracle; it was an unfortunate necessity. They didn’t care for Griffin, only for what Griffin could provide. What would happen when everyone had been cured? Would we coexist peacefully when they no longer had any use for us? When non-elementals outnumbered us five to one?
The process didn’t take long. The man was still too weak to stand, let alone walk unaided, but he knew that he’d been cured. He rolled away from Griffin and summoned a weak smile for the couple watching from across the room. They responded with relieved nods.
The man offered Griffin and Nyla a heartfelt thank-you, words rattling around his parched mouth. Then, supported by my mother, he left, his parents trailing behind as before, but with lighter footsteps now.
Nyla lay down gently on the floor, while Griffin leaned back. He wore a peaceful expression that obscured the pain and exhaustion, although both were still there.
I approached him. You. All. Right?
He nodded.
I sat cross-legged. Sunlight filtered through the broken window, casting a bright strip of yellow across the floor. I felt it on my shoulder. Griffin was in shadow.
You . . . I began, but I wasn’t sure how to say the things I needed to say. You. Not. Safe.
Safe? Griffin raised an eyebrow. Me. Fine.
I’d chosen the wrong word. Or maybe there was no right word. It was obvious to me that he was so determined to cure others that he was harming himself. But more than that, I worried about what would come afterward, when everyone was cured.
They. You. Not. Care.
He mulled this over. So?
They. You. Not. Respect, I signed, the gestures larger and sharper now.
He stared at me blankly. Me. Not. Need. Respect. He seemed almost offended by the idea. Me. Matter. Now.
Now. Yes, I agreed, picking up on his word. But. Tomorrow?
He shook his head gently, the way the older Guardians used to do when they told us off. There was an underlying wisdom in his expression that I recognized well.
Me. Cure. Plague, he signed, as if I hadn’t noticed what he could do. No. One. Else. He paused. Just. Me.
It was a circular argument, and I was tired of playing my part. I might have left then, but Griffin didn’t look annoyed or angry. He wasn’t interested in fighting me, or anyone else. If anything, he looked like he was at peace, like he’d finally found his time and place. His meaning.
“Is he ready for another?” The voice came from the stairs—Mother, returning. But there was no one with her.
“I think they need a rest,” I told her.
Nyla didn’t correct me. She was grateful for a break.
“That’s all right,” said Mother. “Griffin won’t need her to cure you.”
Me. I felt fine, but she was right—I’d been exposed to Plague too.
“I’ve been watching him,” she continued. “He’s becoming more efficient. It’s impossible to describe, but I can see it. The victims with advanced Plague still take more out of him, but you’re not even showing signs yet, so it’ll be easy, I think.”
“Is that what you’re doing outside? Selecting the ones with advanced Plague?”
She coiled a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m trying to work out which of the clan folk is likely to die next, so that Griffin can give them life.”
It was a strange, stilted conversation to be having with my mother, but maybe it was what we needed—to talk about something outside of us. How could we talk about anything deeper when I wasn’t used to the sound of her voice?
On Mother’s signal, Griffin shuffled forward and took my hand. Energy passed between us. I focused on keeping the flow toward me—it would exhaust him faster, but wouldn’t be as painful.
He broke the connection much sooner than I expected. I still felt tired as we loosed hands, but also transformed. Not because I was Plague-free—the disease hadn’t even begun to show—but because, for those few precious moments, I’d seen the world through Griffin’s eyes. With him, I’d faced death down and been rewarded with new life.
Griffin watched me closely as thoughts played through my mind. He was patient, content to let me understand him in my own time. And I did understand now. Here at last was his chance to matter. After years of existing on the fringes of our colony, Griffin was at the center of everything. No other elemental had ever had so much to offer. And who else would have shared such a gift as freely as he did now?
His life of confusion had come into sharp focus. And come what may, I had to let him live the present in whatever way he wanted.
Nyla stirred, and Griffin ran a finger along the fabric of her tunic. Our mother sat beside him and held his free hand. After all the terrible events of the past few weeks, it was impossible not to look at my brother and feel there had been some point to everything. Our mother had returned. In Nyla, he had a true friend at last. Perhaps he’d have less time for me now, less need. But that was always destined to happen. If we were going to be less reliant on each other from now on, at least it had been his decision. It was how I would’ve wanted things to play out.
I was happy for him. Happy for Ananias too, who commanded respect, even if he didn’t completely realize it yet. And for Dennis and Rose, who were using their elements to improve life for everyone. But what was my place in this colony—especially now that my father, the person who might have been able to guide me, was gone?
One look at Griffin, and I knew the answer.
I took a seat beside my brother. Ready? I asked.
Yes, he replied. Always.
Mother gazed at us. She couldn’t have known that we’d been inseparable ever since Griffin was born, but she saw the connection now. She wiped a tear away. “I’ll go get another person,” she said.
I listened to the sound of Griffin breathing, and wondered whose life we’d save next.
CHAPTER 39
The sun was low in the sky—a couple strikes before sundown, I guessed—when a bell was rung some distance away. By then Griffin, Nyla, and I had cured the most advanced cases of Plague. The rest could wait until later. I wouldn’t let Griffin continue until he had rested.
We trudged out of the shelter. Clan folk filed along the street, drawn by the bell’s pure, sweet sound. Like us, their footsteps were labored, heads bowed, faces solemn.
I didn’t need to ask why we were being summoned. The dead needed to be released within a day of passing. But how many dead would there be? And how many of them were killed in the inferno that I had created?
A lone figure walked against the tide of clan folk—a child, not much bigger than Dennis. I signaled to the others to go on without me, and followed the child. I was sure that it was Kieran.
He stopped before the remains of the Sumter ship, which straddled the street like a beached whale. Some of it would be salvaged, I figured—the large pieces of wooden hull, and the metal winches—but we’d never be able to rebuild such an enormous craft.
I joined him. “Hard to believe this ship used to be bigger than a building.”
Kieran didn’t look at me. “Nothing’s as big once it dies. Nothing that matters, anyway,” he added, looking around him at the bloated rats.
He picked his way around the ship’s timbers and continued walking toward the edge of Skeleton Town. I fell in step with him. I was worried, and I didn’t want him to be alone. I’d seen last night’s events from the same vantage point as him, so I knew the images that must be playing through his mind.
W
e were past the buildings when he said sharply, “You told me you’d rescue them.”
I nodded, though he still wasn’t watching. “I know. I . . . I’m sorry. How is your father now?”
“He’s not my father,” said Kieran quietly. “And she wasn’t really my mother. They were my protectors. My parents were elementals, like me. We lived on a tiny island in Chesapeake Bay. It’s not far from Roanoke Island, so I got to see their elements working. And when a few rats came ashore during a storm, I found out what I can do too.”
“Why did you leave?”
“We were there six years. But after every storm, the island got smaller. The water level rose too. It got so we could walk around the island and see each other the whole time. There wasn’t enough room to grow food. Mother got scared—said we wouldn’t make it through the winter. So they built a raft and we headed south for Roanoke.”
We were heading for the mainland bridge now. Hard to believe that Roanoke Island had been his parents’ destination. I didn’t need to ask if they had made it. We’d have seen them, if they had.
“A storm came through and pushed us off course,” he continued. “We grounded on the mainland. Rats found us. I controlled them—kept them away. But it was tiring. And then we ran aground again. The rats had followed us along the shore—thousands of them. I think . . .” He hesitated. “I think it was because I was controlling them. Father tried to keep us away from the shore, but he couldn’t do it. The wind and waves kept pushing us back. And every time we touched land, the rats attacked, until I couldn’t stop them anymore.” He took a deep breath. “Once the storm was over, my parents started paddling again. Kept going, even when they got Plague. They wanted to reach Roanoke Island. But we didn’t even get out of Chesapeake Bay.”
“What happened then?”
“I gave up. I knew I was going to die too. I drifted ashore again, and I didn’t even paddle away. I let the rats come to me. And then I held them there for almost a whole day . . . just a few feet away from me. They couldn’t move. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t drink. They just stayed where they were, even when I fell asleep. I wanted to punish them. I wanted them to die.
“When I woke up, there was a clan ship nearby. A woman who was out fishing in a canoe saw me. She dragged me away from the shore. She didn’t know I was controlling the rats, but she risked her life for me anyway. She took me back to the clan ship. The others wouldn’t let me on, in case I had Plague. So she stayed with me on the raft. For three days her husband passed us food and water. Then they let me on.”
“Did they know you could control the rats?”
“No. I practiced when we got near shore, but only in secret.”
We were on the bridge now, but Kieran wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down.
“What happened when you got to Roanoke?” I asked.
“Jossi told us to leave. We should’ve just gone, but the Elders wanted to trade. Roanoke was a new place, and they wanted to explore. We never would’ve taken anything, but Jossi went crazy. He attacked us. Threatened to kill the Elders. That’s when I made the rats attack the pirates. Everything went wrong after that. And now the woman who saved my life is dead.”
“This isn’t your fault, Kieran.”
“So what? Nothing will stop the hurt.”
My mind returned to the scene during the night. It hadn’t occurred to me before, but now I understood why Kieran’s protectors hadn’t used their elements in self-defense—because they weren’t elementals.
We continued in silence. It was a long walk to the gap in the bridge, and I was sure that’s where Kieran was headed. Sure enough, he didn’t slow down until we were toeing the edge. Instinctively I put a hand in front of him.
“I’m not going to jump,” he said.
“Good. It’s a long way down. Kind of painful. I tried it once—wouldn’t recommend it.”
The plank was still down, connecting the two parts of the bridge. I’d make sure that it was gone before we left.
Kieran stared at the far shore, where the sun hovered just above the horizon. “Will you combine with me? Like you did last night.”
“I think your element is powerful enough without my help.”
“What element? If the rats are gone, I have nothing.”
I hadn’t thought about that. “I still need to know what your element actually is. How it feels.”
“Why? You combined with me fine last night.”
“Because I could see what you were trying to do. I just willed the same thing to happen—for those rats to come closer and closer.” I could tell that he still didn’t understand. “Look, when I combine with Ananias, I imagine the flame. With Dennis, it’s a gust of wind. Even Griffin—I think of energy pouring through him, as if I can force the cure to shift from person to person. I guess I need to know what it is that you want.”
Kieran was undeterred. He pointed to the mainland. “There are rats out there—have to be. And I . . . I want to send them a message.”
“What kind of message?”
“To stay away. If I have to, I’ll tell them every day for the rest of my life.”
He’d answered my question. Now it was my turn to follow through.
I closed my eyes and visualized rats on the mainland. Taking Kieran’s hand in mine, I implored them to listen to him. It felt slightly ridiculous and strangely empty, but I kept the connection, and our elements combined.
Several moments passed before we loosed hands. It wasn’t like usual, either. He didn’t pull away as if the work had been completed, but remained still, staring at the horizon with a puzzled expression.
“What is it, Kieran?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. There’s nothing out there.”
“You mean . . . all the rats are gone?”
“No. There’ll be more. But there aren’t any around here—not for miles. Which means we can go over there, right? We can grow food. And hunt.”
Sixteen years of warnings told me no, that it was impossible. But I believed him. I’d seen what Kieran could do, and there was no doubt in my mind that he was right now.
“Will the clan folk believe it?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I guess not right away. I’m not like them, you know? I’m an elemental, like you.” He sighed. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. Right now, this is the first time some of them have been able to live on land. Who can’t see the miracle in that?”
CHAPTER 40
Kieran and I were the last to arrive at dinner. Clan folk and elementals clustered in separate groups on a patch of rubble to the east of Skeleton Town. Fish, too numerous to count, crisped in the embers of a makeshift fire. Rose and Marin had probably used their elements to summon the fish to the shore. Ananias used his element to control the fire, emphasizing heat over flame. We’d eat well tonight.
The young woman who Griffin had cured earlier was handing out plates. Someone must have made a trip out to the clan ship, and brought supplies ashore. If so, it meant that the clan folk were definitely planning to stay. Given the way they stared at Kieran and me as we made our late arrival, that wasn’t a particularly reassuring thought.
Kieran’s father received his portion and surveyed the separate groups before him. Breaking the trend, he took a place beside Griffin. The woman who’d handed me a plate joined him there. Then Dennis stood and, with an approving smile from his mother, made his way over to the clan folk.
Perhaps it was all for show—a mask to hide how we really felt—but people were making an effort. That had to count for something.
Working quickly, Rose filled each plate from a large metal pan. When she reached me she didn’t make eye contact and she didn’t speak, but she gave me a little more than she should have.
I sat beside Alice because she was alone. Now that Roanoke Island was secure, she stared across the sound to Hatteras Island, as if she were l
ooking for new adventures, or remembering old ones.
“I told Griffin about the third journal,” she said. “Everything I could think of, anyway.”
I looked around me to make sure that no one was listening. “Did the journal mention anything about Griffin’s drawings?”
“No.”
“So no one else has been able to do that? To take one person’s life and save another.”
“Would you admit it if you could?” She took a piece of fish from my plate. “He told me it’s something he’s always known about, though. Just couldn’t explain how.”
“And what about you? How long did you know about Dare being your father?”
She chewed the fish. “Not as long as I should’ve. I’ve been different since I was born. The amazing thing is that I was too blind to see it until I read the last journal.”
I put the plate between us so that she could help herself. She’d probably noticed I had more than my share as soon as I sat down. “You couldn’t have known—”
“Why not? When we were sailing to Sumter, my so-called father’s dying words were that I should have died instead of my sister. The same sister who was traumatized after one conversation with Dare. How obvious did I need it to be?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? For Dare being my father? Or for losing him before I ever knew him?” Even though I heard it in her voice, I was surprised to see tears welling in her eyes. “The only thing I’m sorry about is that I lost my sister. Eleanor shouldn’t have died.”
“She chose that, though.” I wanted to ease Alice’s guilt, but maybe extending the conversation was its own form of pain.
Alice shook her head. “I was there when she died, remember? Ananias and I were at the top of the ship’s mast with her. He honestly thinks she jumped, but she didn’t. She let go.”