Rebel Genius

by Michael Dante DiMartino

  “Enzio, don’t speak another word!” Baldassare commanded.

  “You’d trade her life for some stupid treasure?” Enzio said. “You’re a greedy, selfish oaf!”

  Zanobius stared at Enzio, surprised at how the young man had raised his voice at his father. Zanobius wouldn’t consider speaking that way to Ugalino.

  “Tell me what you know,” Ugalino urged. “Right now. It looks like your mother is having trouble breathing.”

  The woman clawed at Zanobius’s arms, but his grip remained firm.

  “My father and Pietro … They’ve been training some kids with Geniuses.”

  “Not another word, Enzio!” Baldassare sounded desperate.

  Enzio ignored his father. “The other night, one of them figured out the Compass is in the Cave of Alessio. You know where that is?”

  Ugalino nodded. “Where are these young artists and their Geniuses now?”

  “Already on their way.” Enzio spat out the words. “But they just left last night, on foot. With your Genius, you can easily beat them to the cave.”

  Release his mother.

  Zanobius dropped the woman and she crumpled in a heap, taking in huge gulps of air. Enzio rushed to her.

  Take the boy instead.

  Zanobius reached down and plucked the boy away from his mother.

  “Enzio!” she cried out.

  The boy flailed, trying to break free. “What are you doing? I told you what you wanted!”

  “You’re coming with us. And if I discover you’re lying, my Tulpa will rip you apart and feed you to my Genius, piece by piece.”

  “You can’t take my son,” Baldassare said.

  “You were willing to let your own wife perish, rather than give up the Compass,” Ugalino said. “Be thankful this is all I took from you today.”

  He whistled and Ciro flew to his side. Zanobius climbed on, carrying Enzio over his shoulder.

  “Put me down, you ugly, disgusting thing!” the boy howled. Zanobius tried to ignore his insults.

  Ugalino gave Baldassare a menacing look. “And if you or Nerezza’s army tracks me or tries to ambush me, your son is dead.” Baldassare gaped, speechless.

  Pietro regained consciousness and struggled to his feet. On the roof, his Genius shook in a wave from head to tail, sending out a flurry of gray feathers.

  “Taking the Compass will only bring more suffering and misery to Zizzola,” Pietro warned.

  Ugalino took his position on Ciro’s neck. “I will heal our empire by tearing down what Nerezza has built and creating a new world in its place. One that treats innovative artists not as criminals, but heroes.”

  Ciro flapped his giant wings and they soared into the sky. The boy’s struggling stopped as soon as they were in the air. His anger was replaced by alarm as he stared at the ground rushing away.

  “I hate heights too,” Zanobius said.

  “I’m not scared,” Enzio replied. But his fear-filled eyes betrayed his words. Humans always acted tough, even when they were terrified. The boy was no exception.

  10

  THE CASTLE’S SECRET

  “There it is,” Ozo announced. “Castille di Oberto.”

  Atop a jutting mound of earth, ringed by a wide moat, sat a stone castle with numerous towers. A long viaduct with tall arches created a raised path above the surrounding pine trees and moat. Strips of orange peeked between the clouds as the sun fell.

  “Duke Oberto hired me once to deal with some unruly peasants,” Ozo said. “He has a soft spot for artists, so you’ll be safe here.”

  As they walked along the top of the viaduct, Giacomo got a closer view of the two front towers, which were in ruins. The drawbridge was raised. In the moat below, the bloated body of a man bobbed in the water. A shiver of fear ran through Giacomo.

  The mercenaries approached, swords and crossbows raised.

  “Everyone wait here,” Ozo said. “I’ll check it out.”

  “We can make a bridge across,” Milena offered, pointing to the gap between the viaduct and the castle.

  “I’ve had enough of magic bridges,” Ozo grumbled. “I’d rather use the real thing.” He wrapped one end of his chain around a chunk of stone protruding from the viaduct. He leaned back, pulling the chain taut, then walked vertically down until he reached a lower part of the hillside.

  He scaled the rocky terrain to the castle, then climbed through a triangular opening at the corner of the outer wall where the tower had crumbled.

  The group waited in silence for Ozo to give the all clear. Giacomo jumped as metal chains clattered. The drawbridge fell open like a tongue lolling out of a giant mouth, revealing Ozo on the other side. “The place looks abandoned, far as I can tell,” he called. “But stay alert.”

  They entered the courtyard, where enormous black ravens pecked at the bodies of dead guards. Giacomo looked away from the grim scene. The ravens let out a chorus of grating croaks, warning the Geniuses to stay away from their meal. Mico squawked back at them, but stayed close to Giacomo.

  “Help me check the rest of the castle,” Ozo commanded Zatto and the Bull, whose injuries were minor compared to the others’. “The rest of you wait out here with the kids.”

  The three men passed through the doors, which had been blasted into splinters, and disappeared into the castle.

  The four Geniuses flew around the courtyard, circling. They all cried out with startled chirps.

  “They seem agitated,” Savino said.

  “No kidding,” Milena scoffed. “Think it has anything to do with all those dead bodies over there?”

  Savino sighed. “Think you can lay off the sarcasm once in a while?”

  Giacomo noticed something on the ground near the wall—a silver feather, nearly as long as his forearm. He showed it to the others. “Looks a lot bigger than a normal bird’s feather, don’t you think?”

  Savino nodded. “The only people who have full-grown Geniuses are Pietro, the Supreme Creator, and—”

  “Ugalino.” Milena’s voice quavered.

  Aaminah looked around nervously. “What if he’s still here?”

  From somewhere inside the castle came a woman’s terrified scream.

  Giacomo tensed, his heart racing, expecting Ugalino and his Tulpa to emerge with their latest victim.

  Instead, a young woman in a dark green peasant dress bolted into the courtyard, her hair flowing behind her in wild curls. Ozo, Zatto, and the Bull chased after her.

  “We just want to know where the duke is!” the Bull called out.

  She stumbled, falling to her knees. At the sight of the other mercenaries, she held up a carving knife, shouting, “Stay away!”

  “It’s okay, signora,” Aaminah said, cautiously approaching the woman. “We’re with these people. They’re not going to hurt you. Please put down the knife.”

  Aaminah’s soft tone calmed the woman and she lowered her trembling arm. She eyed them with suspicion. “More Geniuses? Who … who are you?”

  “My name’s Aaminah. This is Milena, Savino, and Giacomo.” Then she gestured to the mercenaries: “These are our escorts.”

  Ozo stepped toward the woman. “And who are you?” he said gruffly.

  “My name is Ersilia,” the woman replied, catching her breath. “I was one of Duke Oberto’s maidservants.”

  “The person who attacked the castle,” Savino said. “Did he have a Genius too?”

  She nodded, confirming their earlier suspicion.

  “Was a four-armed man with him?” Ozo asked.

  Ersilia looked spooked. “Yes. But it was no man. It was a monster.”

  “What happened?” Giacomo said.

  “I was in my quarters when I heard loud booming sounds. I looked out from my room, up there.” She pointed to a small window in one of the towers that overlooked the courtyard. “I saw the guards confront the monster and it went crazy and attacked them. It threw them around like … like they were sacks of flour.” She looked at the bodies nearby, tears wel
ling in her eyes.

  “Is Duke Oberto alive?” Ozo wanted to know.

  “No … that creature killed him too. Once they flew away, and we were sure the danger had passed, the other servants fled.”

  “Why are you still here?” Milena asked.

  “My grandmother … She’s ill. She’s not able to travel. So I stayed with her. But the herbs, they’re not working anymore. I don’t know what to do.” Ersilia buried her head in her hands.

  “Maybe Aaminah could help her,” Giacomo suggested. “She and her Genius are great at healing people.”

  “Really?” Ersilia looked hopeful.

  “I can’t make any promises,” Aaminah said. “It depends on how sick she is.”

  “Hold up,” Ozo said. “You still got half my team to get to.” He turned to Ersilia and gave her a sad smile that didn’t look genuine. “Sorry, signora, but your grandmother’s going to have to wait.”

  Aaminah had started healing the mercenaries during their travel breaks. She began with the most serious injuries and was still working through the rest of the wounded by the time they’d arrived at the castle.

  “I’ll help her as soon as I can,” Aaminah promised Ersilia. She pulled her flute from her belt and walked over to Spike, who was sprawled on the ground, clutching his side and groaning. As she played, a yellow light from Luna’s crown washed over his torso and the moans died down.

  “We’re going to need to take some of your food,” Ozo told Ersilia. “But a castle this size must have a pretty healthy stash.”

  “Help yourselves,” she offered. “There’s no one left here to eat it anyway.”

  “Let’s get in there and start stocking up,” Ozo ordered. Everyone headed inside, except for Aaminah and her Genius, who remained with the injured.

  Ersilia pointed down the long main hall. “The kitchen’s all the way at the end. I need to check on my grandmother and let her know everything’s all right.” She left, disappearing through an archway.

  The duke’s home reminded Giacomo of Baldassare’s villa—immense and opulent. But unlike the villa, where Baldassare kept his art collection hidden, the duke’s walls were covered in gold-framed paintings of past Zizzolan heroes, with not one portrait of Supreme Creator Nerezza among them. He’d probably be arrested for his collection if he hadn’t already been killed.

  “Watch out, dead body alert,” Ozo said flatly as he led the group past a lifeless figure in a red robe lying on the floor. Flies buzzed around it. With the tip of his sword, Ozo turned the limp head, revealing an old man’s scarred face, frozen in horror.

  “That’s Duke Oberto all right,” Ozo said. “Looks a lot older than I remember…”

  Ozo and the group continued down the hall. Giacomo caught a glimpse of the duke’s frightening appearance and averted his gaze. But something made him take a second look. He leaned over the body. The duke’s face was a petrified tangle of flesh that looked like it had been ravaged by fire, not old age. It reminded him of the way Milena’s arm had looked after her Wellspring injury.

  Realizing everyone was already far down the hall, Giacomo called for Mico and headed for the group. But his Genius stayed hovering by one of the paintings—a depiction of the Creator holding the Compass, Straightedge, and Pencil. Mico pecked at its frame, chipping off flakes of gold leaf.

  Giacomo stomped down the hall. “Mico, quit it!” But his Genius only redoubled its efforts. Giacomo seized Mico. “Geniuses shouldn’t deface artwork,” he scolded.

  Mico responded by jabbing Giacomo with his beak. “Ow! What’s wrong with you?”

  Giacomo let go and Mico darted back to the painting, this time trying to poke his head behind the frame.

  “Why don’t you ever listen to me?” Giacomo tried grabbing Mico again, but the little creature avoided his grasp and wriggled behind the canvas.

  “Mico? Mico, get out here right now!” Giacomo peered behind the painting, but his Genius wasn’t there. Impossible. Mico couldn’t vanish into a wall … Or could he?

  He grasped the edge of the frame and pulled. The painting swung open like a door. Hidden behind it was an arched passageway with stairs spiraling down. Just like the secret passage to Pietro’s studio, Giacomo thought.

  “Mico? You down there?” To Giacomo’s relief, his Genius replied with a faint chirp.

  The opening stood a foot off the floor. Giacomo stepped up, then slowly descended, his back pressed against the cold stone wall.

  “Some light would be nice,” he whispered, but the stairwell remained dark. Either Mico hadn’t heard him or was purposely ignoring him.

  From the depths of the castle came the sound of breathing. The smart thing would have been to have Ozo check it out, but something drew Giacomo farther into the darkness.

  The breathing got louder, sounding like a man’s snores mixed with a dog’s growls. But the inhales and exhales also spoke to him on a deeper level, as if they were whispering to his soul, urging him closer.

  A wall of foulness slammed into him. Giacomo recoiled and his stomach heaved. He fell back on the steps and coughed. That morning’s breakfast threatened to come back up, but Giacomo swallowed hard and the nausea passed. After spending most of his life in the sewer, he thought he’d smelled every horrendous odor humans could make, but this was ten times worse.

  He covered his nose and mouth with his collar. It barely masked the putrid odors, but made it tolerable enough for him to stand again.

  “Mico, this isn’t funny. Where are you? I can’t see anything.”

  A bright red light pierced the dark and shot into his eyes.

  “Not in my face!” Giacomo complained.

  Mico turned, and the beam moved from Giacomo to the wall behind him.

  “There,” Giacomo instructed, pointing down the stairs. When Giacomo and Mico reached the bottom, the Genius’s red beam glinted across a row of metal bars. As Giacomo’s eyes adjusted, he began to make out a cage with a form inside, a lumpy mass that heaved with each growling breath. Whatever kind of wild animal it was, it must have been responsible for the horrible stench too.

  Mico cast his light around the room, and Giacomo’s pounding heart thumped even faster. There wasn’t only one cage. There were ten. And huddled in each was a pale, hairless creature with shiny, whitish flesh. Scars crisscrossed their bodies. They didn’t look like any animal Giacomo had ever seen.

  Tentatively, he moved closer to the cages, both curious and horrified. He made out an eyeball staring back at him, but the eye wasn’t on a face. It was set in what appeared to be a shoulder. Giacomo took a closer look. Or is it an elbow? And it had teeth too, but not where a mouth would normally be. Several jagged fangs stuck out from the top of the creature’s head, near two slits that opened and closed with the growling-snoring sound. It had a tail, a rodent’s paws, and arms too short for its body. It was as if the Creator had taken a lump of clay, thrown on a dog’s face, mixed it with a baby’s, added a rat’s tail and claws, then smushed the clay with his thumb until the features became almost unrecognizable.

  The others were variations of the first, some a little bigger, others smaller. A few had more than two eyes; one had none at all. The eyeless creature sniffed the air with its two gaping nostrils, though how it could pick out Giacomo’s scent amid the stench, he couldn’t imagine.

  The creatures crawled to the bars of the cages, their paws clawing the rusted metal, their growls growing more agitated. He backed away, and was about to flee, when a baby’s faint cry came from deeper in the underground chamber.

  He already thought the duke was horrible for torturing these creatures, but keeping a baby down here? That was pure evil.

  With Mico lighting the way, Giacomo crept toward the sound, past stacked paintings and statues draped in white sheets, like ghosts. The duke’s vault of contraband art made Baldassare’s collection seem tiny by comparison.

  The crying got louder and louder until Giacomo found its source—a large wooden box, about six feet tall. Cautiously
, he circled it and found a glass portal embedded in its side, no bigger than the palm of his hand. He peered through the foggy glass but it was too dark to see anything inside.

  “Shine your light in here,” Giacomo said, and Mico aimed his beam at the portal. Giacomo’s worst fear was confirmed. The foggy glass distorted his vision, but there was no mistaking what he saw. Inside the box lay a naked baby, wriggling its arms and legs and wailing.

  “We have to get it out!” Giacomo scrambled to the other side of the box and found a door. He raised a thick wooden bar and yanked the door open.

  He charged inside and reached for the squirming baby. But he stopped short as Mico’s light fell across its misshapen body—its flesh looked like waxy lumps from a melted candle.

  The baby twisted around, revealing a gaping mouth of fangs where its face should have been. It snapped at Giacomo’s fingers. He flinched and jumped, backing into the wall. With a creak, the door swung inward and banged shut. He heard the wooden bar fall with a thud.

  Giacomo threw himself at the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “No!” He charged again, slamming his shoulder into the wood. The door still wouldn’t open. A paralyzing realization began to sink in—he and Mico were trapped. With that thing.

  He became aware of mechanical clicking and whirring sounds outside the box. A bright beam of light shot through the glass portal. Projected on the opposite wall was the drawing of a man standing on a ceiling. It took Giacomo a second to realize the man wasn’t hanging upside down; the whole drawing was upside down.

  A whir and a click. The image was replaced by a masterful study of hands, also upside down. The drawing showed the hand in different positions, from various angles. Another whir and click. The image changed to a study of an eye. One by one, new drawings clicked into place, each depicting various parts of human anatomy. Some of the illustrations even showed humans on the inside. Giacomo had heard about certain artists who cut open dead bodies and drew the organs, muscles, and bones in order to study how the body worked. Giacomo found himself disgusted but fascinated by the imagery.

  Startled by a scraping noise, he looked around. The baby creature had wandered into the corner and was gnawing at the wooden wall. At least it’s not chewing on my leg, Giacomo thought with mild relief.