by Ike Hamill
Children bounded down the stairs and spilled into the main room of the town hall, looking for their parents. Sasha and the girl from the Shylan road appeared and joined Constantine and Maria on the steps.
“Father!” Maria yelled.
At the south end of the garden, the hedges shook and paper lanterns swayed. Another trumpeting blast rang out.
“We must...” Maria began, but her shout was cut off by screams from the west. A group of people, some limping and bloody, ran by the rose bushes towards the side of the town hall. Another crash, like rumbling thunder, shook the ground and trailed off amidst the terrified squeals of horses.
The beast crashed through the hedges. Constantine thought it was walking backwards. The big forehead looked like buttocks, and the long gray nose could have been a tail. When it raised its trunk in the air and trumpeted again, he understood his mistake.
“The elephant,” Sasha said, smiling. He pushed past Constantine and began to descend the stairs.
From the side, Sasha’s father arrived at that moment. He grabbed his son by the shoulders, looked in his eyes, and nodded before releasing him.
Sasha’s father backed slowly up the stairs as his son stepped into the center of the garden and raised his arms. The elephant tossed its head, using its giant tusks to send bushes flying to the sides. It stood a few dozen paces south of Sasha.
Constantine had seen enough. Even the fascinating gray leather covering this enormous animal wasn’t enough to keep him on the stairs. He fled to his right, meaning to melt into the crowd as it limped away. Sasha’s father grabbed his arm and spun him around, yelling into his face. “Connie, the Providential’s partner helps him defeat the elephant. You must go over there and help Sasha.”
Constantine shook his head in disagreement. This gray beast was easily twice the height of the biggest animal that Constantine had ever seen. Furthermore, Constantine had nothing to fight with except the secret blade tucked into the back pocket of his suit. At four inches, what could this blade possibly do against such a fearsome beast?
Sasha’s father pulled Constantine back up the stairs and grabbed a decorative sword from the wall. He pushed the hilt of the blade into Constantine’s hand and shoved him back down the stairs.
Constantine continued to shake his head.
“Go! Or I’ll kill you myself,” Sasha’s father said.
Meanwhile, in the center of the garden, Sasha still stood with his hands raised over his head. The elephant came slowly, taking its time instead of charging the little boy. The girl from the Shylan Road stood next to Maria on the steps and both girls hid their mouths with their hands.
Around the perimeter of the garden, some of the townspeople slowed and stood, watching the showdown between the tiny boy and the massive elephant.
Constantine trudged down the steps with the untrustworthy piece of metal held out before him. When Constantine arrived at Sasha’s back, he turned the sword around and pressed the handle against Sasha’s arm.
“Your father wanted you to have this,” Constantine said.
Sasha turned to look at the boy holding the sword.
“What…?” Sasha began. He never finished the question. The elephant charged at full speed, bouncing on its enormous feet and leaving giant, springy holes in the soft turf.
Sasha turned towards it, growling as he swished the blade back and forth in front of himself. Constantine backed away to avoid the sloppy arcs of the sword’s dull point. The elephant lowered its head as it charged, fixing an angry eye on the pair of boys. Sasha slashed and the elephant caught the blade with its trunk, incurring deep cuts before flinging the blade up in the air. Its right tusk whisked over the ground before beginning its deadly upswing. The ivory caught Sasha in the stomach and drove him back against Constantine. The two boys were flung off to the side.
A growing thunder and a terrifying scream arrived with Baron. The horse charged up from the rear of the elephant and grabbed the beast’s face, just below its right eye. He held on with his stallion’s teeth and bounced as he kicked into the elephant’s flank. The elephant groaned a nasal curse and tossed his head, trying to shake loose from his equine tormentor.
Sasha landed on Constantine.
Constantine tried to roll from beneath Sasha. The sword bounced on the turf a few feet away.
The elephant managed to swing it’s tusks towards Baron, and shoved the big horse to the side. Constantine got to his feet and grabbed the untrustworthy metal sword from the ground. He held the sword with his left hand while his right pulled his secret flint from his pocket. He stepped over Sasha, who clutched both hands to the jagged hole the tusk had torn through his midsection.
Constantine barked at the elephant and drew his attention from Baron.
The elephant swung its massive head and narrowed a giant eye at the boy. The two stood, regarding each other, as fresh chaos erupted behind Constantine. The girls ran forward to drag Sasha back as his father yelled. “No! He’ll be alright!”
Constantine didn’t wave the sword or strike at the elephant, he merely stalked straight forward. The elephant raised its head and then a front leg, ready to strike down the boy. Behind the elephant, Baron turned and kicked his hind legs into the belly of the elephant, drawing its attention once more to the rear.
Seeing his chance, Constantine rushed forward, and stabbed the untrustworthy metal blade up into the gray chest of the elephant. He smelled the ripe musth of the beast as he pressed his shoulder into the handle, willing it to drive deeper into the thick hide. The elephant’s head whipped around and it stomped it’s feet at the boy, trying to strike him down, but Constantine danced between its blows.
The elephant rumbled a complaint from deep in its chest and trundled forward. Constantine dove out of the way of its rear legs as it moved over him. Baron stood, wide-legged and confused as the elephant pressed forward. Constantine ran to Baron, leapt up, and pulled himself with Baron’s mane to the horse’s back. Baron understood immediately and rushed forward as Constantine moved to his feet, balancing atop the galloping stallion.
The elephant stumbled towards Maria and the girl from the Shylan Road, who were dragging Sasha back to safety. As Baron pulled alongside the elephant, Constantine leapt from the back of the horse to the back of the elephant. Driving his flint into the big gray shoulder and using the stuck blade as a handhold, he pulled himself up.
Constantine straddled its neck as the elephant thrashed. He gripped the base of its ear and slashed wildly with his flint, trying to inflict any damage at all to the boney skull. His blade found no purchase. Baron was doing much more to hurt it with his tearing bites to the elephant’s sides.
The girls got Sasha to his feet and he pushed them back and raised his arms again. At the top of the stairs, a man ran through the doors of the town hall and raised an enormous gun to his shoulder. Sasha’s father shoved the barrel of the gun aside just as the man fired. The sound of the shot boomed through the garden and the bullet cut a path through the leaves.
“The Providential and his partner will kill this elephant!” Sasha’s father yelled at the shooter.
The elephant reared, and high in the air perched on the beast’s head, Constantine drove his flint into the animal’s ear. The elephant reached back with its trunk and grabbed for the boy. On the ground, Sasha held his arms in the air and growled at the thrashing animal. Baron came around to the front and jumped to launch his rear legs in a kick towards the elephant’s chest.
“He’s bleeding!” a woman screamed from her position near the rose bushes.
Sasha’s father wondered at the absurdity of her comment. Of course the elephant was bleeding, they’d all seen the sword plunge into its chest. Only after he followed her pointing finger did he see the blood stains rolling down Sasha’s legs. Sasha’s father, Sir Alexander Skomin of Hyff Lane, saw the battle with fresh eyes. His dear son, Sasha, was neither the Providential nor the partner. Constantine, the little Forestling, and his own stallion, Baron, were th
e partners fighting the elephant. That meant his son might be just another victim, and his daughter was at risk as well. The prophecy guaranteed the safety of only the Providential, his sister, and his partner. No others need live to see the end of the day.
Sasha’s father dove down the steps towards his children.
Elephant, horse, and boy, all left the ground, thrashing and fighting. The elephant, having reared to its hind legs, jumped and spun its bulky head to reach its trunk to the stabbing boy. Constantine gripped with his knees and sawed his flint at the flopping gray ear. Blood spouted from the wound. Baron pronked in order to launch himself high enough. The angry stallion thrashed out with his hind legs at the chest of the elephant.
Sasha’s father grabbed his daughter’s lavender dress and his son’s fur suit, and dragged his children back, away from the fight.
Some say the blade finally worked its way between the elephant’s massive ribs because of the beast’s thrashing. Others claim that Baron’s kick drove the blade deeper. Whatever the force, the untrustworthy metal blade finally reached its home in the massive elephant heart. Blood spouted from the elephant’s chest and rained down on the girl from the Shylan Road as Sasha’s father dragged the other two children away.
The elephant’s trunk finally found purchase on Constantine and it hurled him forward.
Constantine found himself flying through the air and cast his flint to the side when he saw that he would soon collide with the girl from the Shylan Road. He tucked his head and wrapped his arms around her as they tumbled to the ground. Behind them, the elephant groaned and screamed as it began to collapse. Life left its shape in a wave. First, the trunk stretched, pointing straight up like the trunks of the massive oaks. The hanging lanterns cast a dozen shadows of the raised trunk against the back facade of the town hall. Next, the corners of the elephant’s mouth drew back, seeming to smile and then silently scream. Finally, the elephant’s limbs stiffened and it spun as it fell.
On the ground, Constantine scrambled, dragging the girl from the Shylan Road away from the impact of the elephant. Baron bolted to the hedges, bounced twice as if considering the jump, and then turned. He lowered his head to his foaming, sweaty chest.
The elephant’s bloody tusk plunged into the soft garden turf exactly where Constantine and the girl had lain, moments earlier. The beast exhaled a massive sigh as it hit the ground, and townspeople ran towards the children from all directions.
On the steps of the hall, Maria held Sasha’s hand as their father tore open the suit to survey his wounds. Constantine ran to the stairs as Sasha’s stomach was exposed.
Sasha’s skin had closed around the wound, but the jagged tear, as long as the boy’s foot, oozed deep red blood.
“My son!” Sasha’s father yelled. He pressed both his hands against the boy’s wound but his pressure merely made the wound gush more blood. Hands pulled the father and sister away as townspeople swept in to take over the care of the boy. Women barked out orders and men brought towels, and water, and fire, and spirits. Constantine retreated to the hedges and stood next to Baron. The boy wiped the sweaty foam from the horse’s coat.
The girl from Shylan Road sat stunned, looking down at the bright red blood which stained her white dress. Her hands brushed at the blood, as if it were dust that she could wipe away. The crowd gasped when a second shot exploded from the gun. The shooter stood over the elephant and toed the massive skull where his bullet had entered.
Baron hooked his head over Constantine’s shoulder as the boy watched the group of would-be healers give up on Sasha. Constantine lowered his own head as a sheet was drawn over the head of Sasha, and Sasha’s father and sister were led away. Men came with a halter and rope for Baron, but the horse wouldn’t be led away from Constantine until the boy whispered something in Baron’s ear. Then the horse went with the men.
Two well-dressed men with gold chains dangling from their hip pockets approached and stood in front of Constantine. The boy was watching a group of mothers lead the girl from the Shylan Road away while dabbing at the blood on her dress. On the other side of the garden, men with thick black aprons brought great knives and axes to dismantle the corpse of the elephant. Constantine tried to spy around the two fancy men to watch the butchers remove a cart load of intestines.
“Boy,” one man began, “you must come with us to the Constable.”
“No,” Constantine said. “Sasha.”
The other man spoke. “You’ll understand that Sasha’s family wants to be alone to deal with their loss. You need to come with us so the Constable may deem if you are the Providential Boy.”
“No,” Constantine said.
The two men grabbed Constantine under his shoulders. The boy’s hand went for his secret blade, and he remembered that he’d thrown it aside. Constantine kicked and thrashed. The men’s hands were strong and they easily lifted him and walked him towards a wagon.
They linked their arms with Constantine’s and sat on either side of him on the bench of the formal wagon. As they rode, Constantine appreciated the skein-clad axles of the wagon. The metal cap fixed on the end of the wooden axle would allow the hub to turn freely and protect the axle from wear. Above the axles, the leaf springs buffered the cart from the bouncing road, providing a smooth ride. Their bench had its own set of springs, much softer than the stiff springs underneath. The men dampened the bouncing springs with their legs, but Constantine’s legs dangled freely.
They rode by lantern light to the Shylan Road, and Constantine wondered where they’d taken the girl. He peered ahead and behind, but saw no other wagon making the trek. When they arrived at the cabin of the Constable, most of the building was dark. Only the windows of one room at the back of the cabin glowed with candlelight.
The men lifted Constantine and walked him to the front door of the cabin. The man on the right pulled a lump of metal from his pocket and used that to pound three times on the cabin door.
A minute later, the door creaked open to reveal a woman underlit by a candle.
“Yes?” she asked.
“We have the boy for the Constable,” the man on the left said.
“I’m afraid he’s asleep and can’t see anyone.” The beauty of her young face was marred by puffy wrinkles and worry lines.
“We must insist,” the man on the right said. “He told us to bring the Providential Boy regardless of his condition.”
The woman sighed and pulled the door open as she stepped back. She disappeared into the dark rooms at the back of the house, leaving the men to find their way into the Constable’s sick room. They pushed the door open, still carrying Constantine between them, and waited for the Constable to become aware of their presence.
The old man coughed himself awake and then slowly raised his eyelids on the candlelit trio.
“Who is that?” the Constable grunted. He coughed. “Is that my daughter?”
“No, my Lord, it is the Providential Boy,” the man on the left said.
“Alexei’s boy? That doesn’t look like Alexei’s boy,” he said. He rubbed his eyes and pushed himself up.
“No, my Lord, it’s the little Forestling,” the man on the right said. He stood up straighter when he spoke and hoisted Constantine higher in the air. The boy fussed and struggled in his grip.
“And you have proof that he’s the Providential? Very clever. Very clever,” the Constable said. “Explain yourself.”
“Most of it you know already, my Lord,” the man on the left said.
“Well, indulge me then,” the Constable said. “Defend your thesis.”
The two men who held Constantine looked at each other over the boy’s head. The man on the right nodded and the man on the left began speaking. “This boy was present when the lion arrived, as you know. He, in fact, jumped on the back of the lion as Alexei’s son, Sasha, only held his ground.”
The Constable blew his nose and nodded.
“Alexei and his men said that this boy was present when Sasha killed the g
iant snake, but we have reason to believe that Sasha was not, in fact, present when the snake was killed. Sasha’s grandmother boasted that the boy spent that entire day in her garden, showing her how he weaves his suits.”
“And then tonight...” the man on the left began before the Constable cut him off.
“Wait, wait,” the Constable said. His words brought on another fit of coughing, which ended with the old man spitting a wad of thick sputum into a handkerchief. The Constable then continued, “If you’re going to prove the absence of Sasha at the giant snake by the presence of that same boy demonstrating his skill to his Grandmother, then how will you attribute a skill to this boy.”
“We believe, my Lord, that young Sasha obtained his suit from this boy, and that he was never able to accurately describe how he constructed it,” the man on the right said.
“So you would say that Sasha is a liar?” the Constable asked.
“No, my Lord. I would not say that,” the man on the right said.
“Because it’s not true? Or because Alexei would have your head?”
“The boy is deceased, my Lord,” the man on the left said.
The Constable didn’t respond verbally at first, but he pushed himself farther back in his bed until he was sitting upright. To Constantine’s eyes, the old man was mimicking renewed vitality purely through the strength of his will.
“You have the right to refuse to impugn the dead,” the Constable said. “Continue.”
“We’re assuming that this boy has the skill to create these suits. He was spotted wearing one before even Sasha had one. He wore a suit like this on the day of the Harvest Festival. He has a new one tonight, that you can see incorporates the snakeskin. Also tonight, this boy helped kill a giant elephant. In the process, he saved your daughter from being crushed by the giant beast.”
“Ah, your final proof. But it falls flat,” the Constable said.