Edwin sighed. He stared off behind me at the bare wall of the small office.
“There’s an answer to these concerns,” he said. “But you’re not going to like it. I’ve been . . . Well, I’ve been holding something back. You’ll think it’s terrible, but I assure you the whole point behind it will be to fix all the things you just said. To ensure that things get better for everyone.”
“Do I even want to know?” I sighed.
“You said yourself how much you like Foxflame and Lixi and Wrecking Ball and the others,” he began. “Hopefully you see that we’re every bit as good a people as Dwarves or Humans or anyone. I guess the reason I’m saying all this, Greg, is that not all magic will be gone if we succeed with our plan.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“If my plan works, the Elves will still have magic,” he said. “I mean, not all Elves, which is complicated in itself. Just us. Me and my loyal followers. All of us who are committed to peace.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, shaking my head.
This sounded even worse, somehow, than the problems of the modern world. Not only would an elite group have most of the wealth, but they’d also have magic on their side? It sounded insanely one-sided. Selfish. Maybe this Edwin wasn’t the same old Edwin deep down, after all, like I’d let myself start to believe. Even if he meant well, which I was pretty sure he did, his plan showed just how warped his mind had gotten.
“Hear me out,” Edwin said.
I nodded, because what more could I do? Honestly, I wanted to hear him explain himself. I wanted him to convince me this wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Because it sounded pretty bad. In fact, it sounded like Edwin was trying to use the power of magic—his exclusive access to it—to essentially rule the world. Unless there was some twist to this I was missing?
“We’ll only keep magic as a way to end all that nonsense you were referring to: wars and poverty and such,” Edwin said passionately, his eyes practically glowing with sincerity. “We want to use magic as a way to keep all the other people in line. The Elves, who I would argue are the natural choice as curators of this new world, since we are the most level-headed and historically most successful at implementing societal structure, can police the planet and take care of everyone. Without magic, nobody will be able to oppose us. And thus we can ensure that there will be no wars, no violence, no bloodshed, no poverty, ever again.”
“You’re talking about a dictatorship,” I said, still not believing what I was hearing. “With required obedience. No freedoms. Isn’t freedom worth something, too?”
“It’s not like that, Greg.” Edwin sighed. “There will only be initial obedience, which we can peacefully enforce with magic. And then eventually it will all turn into free will and harmony. Trust me, once everyone sees how peaceful this new world can and will be, they won’t even want to resist it. It would only lead to pointless violence. Besides, I am not an oppressor, quite the opposite. In the new world, I will be a liberator, an agent of peace. My plan is the only one where potentially nobody dies. In a way, maybe your dad was right all along: maybe through Elves magic can bring a lasting peace?”
I hated the idea of him warping my dad’s vision. I knew that was not what my dad had in mind when he spoke of a magical utopia. Far from it. In the magical world my dad had imagined, there would be no need for curators or peacekeepers at all.
“So you really think you can trust only Elves with magic?” I asked, the snarling anger in my voice surprising even me. “When you just told me a few hours ago that an Elf could be double-crossing you? And that Elves can’t be trusted! How can you now sit there and say they’re the only ones who can be trusted?!”
“Well, I mean, that’s different,” Edwin said, but I could tell his mind was reeling. “I mean, not all Elves would have access to magic. Only those I trust the most.”
“Oh, I see, well, it’s a good thing you’re a perfect judge of people and can’t make mistakes,” I said. “Like possibly allowing a mole into your base here. Glad we can assume that won’t happen again.”
“There’s no need for sarcasm,” he said calmly, but I could tell he knew I was right. Then he sighed and shook his head. “I know it’s not perfect yet. But I will figure it out. I mean, I’ll be the only one with magic if that’s what it takes to keep people from dying.”
Whether his plan ultimately proved to be right or wrong, one thing was clear: He truly believed it was the best for everyone. Unless he was duping me with his famous Elven powers of persuasion, he hadn’t come up with this plan in his own self-interest. But I still couldn’t overlook the built-in Elven superiority and elitism of the whole thing.
“You realize this plan means you think Dwarves are inherently lesser than you, right?” I asked. “If some Elves can be trusted with magic, but no Dwarves can?”
“That’s not . . . You’re warping my words now,” he said.
“Am I?” I asked.
“Okay, I know it sounds bad,” Edwin admitted reluctantly. “But at least this way people won’t be killing one another anymore.”
I nodded.
On that point it was hard to argue. If only Elves had magic, then it was entirely possible they could somehow force the whole world into a kind of uneasy “peace.” But would it really be harmonious without free will? Plus, that was also assuming that all Elves would be on the same page.
Something I knew wasn’t true.
Because of both his confession to me just an hour ago, and also because of what I saw in St. Louis Cemetery #2 in New Orleans. And so I figured now was as good a time as any to ask him about it, being that this conversation couldn’t get much worse.
“Back in New Orleans,” I started, “just before I got knocked out, I saw something strange. I saw Elves fighting Elves, Edwin. I’m sure of it now. What was that all about?”
Edwin sat forward in his chair again, his forehead scrunched with worry. For the first time since I’d been there, he looked every bit as young as he was. He looked once again like a kid who had just turned fourteen and still had a lot to learn. His expression grew dark as he debated what to tell me.
“I can’t talk about the specifics of that yet,” he said. “But we’re dealing with it. Speaking of, I think it’s best I get back to work. Playtime is over.”
He stood from his chair so suddenly that the chess pieces on the table rattled, and I knew that our meeting was finished.
CHAPTER 35
There Will Still Be Time for Bike Rides and Board Games During the Apocalypse
My last-ever walk with Lixi happened the next day.
She came to get me just before lunch, smiling brightly, as always. She even brought me a gift, something wrapped in an old piece of leather. I undid the bindings and beneath the soft animal hide was a green amulet on a gold chain. It was oval, but uneven, a few inches long, consisting of a stone base with a green gemstone in the center with little silver runes carved into it.
It was cool and all, but I didn’t quite know what I was looking at.
“Is this like some kind of magical Elven-charm thingy with special powers?” I asked.
“Nah, they gave it away as a promotion at the newest superhero movie I went to,” Lixi said. “I just thought it looked neat.”
“Oh . . .”
She burst out laughing. I held the heavy pendant, totally unsure if I should laugh along with her.
“I’m just kidding,” Lixi finally said. “You were sort of right the first time. It’s a Talisman of Barriers. Elven lore says that they grant you safe passage between spiritual worlds after death. Some people also claim they bring luck. Most think they’re just cool-looking trinkets. But who knows? Traditionally, every Elf born under a blue moon gets one on their first birthday. I want you to have mine.”
“I can’t accept this.”
I tried to hand it back, but she shook her hea
d and put her hands behind her back.
“Nope, it’s yours,” Lixi said with a smile. “I want you to have it, Greg. It will bring you more luck than me—it sounds like you need it with your Thursday curse and all that. Besides, all mine has ever done is sit in my drawer since I was a baby. I really don’t think it has any powers, even with magic coming back. But I want you to think of me every time you see it. A sort of reminder that we’re not so bad. Elves, I mean.”
I put into my pocket, wishing I had something to give her in return.
“Thank you,” I said. “That’s really nice of you. But why are you talking like we won’t see each other anymore? I mean, is Edwin releasing me or something?”
“I really don’t know,” Lixi admitted. “But I know I’ll be leaving soon. In a day or two probably. He has another mission for me.”
We started walking then, along a familiar route out toward the old exercise yard.
“What’s your mission? Is it dangerous?”
“I can’t say,” she said.
“Can’t say or don’t know?”
“Greg, I don’t really want to talk about it,” Lixi said, telling me all I needed to know about how dangerous it might be: probably very. “Can’t we talk about the usual stuff instead? Like the cool plays the PEE used to put on? Or all the funny accidental use of magic we’ve seen recently?”*
I laughed, but then lapsed into quiet melancholy. The fact was, I could tell neither of us really wanted to talk about the usual stuff knowing it might be the last time I would see her for a while. Maybe ever, depending on how things played out.
“Do you know, Lixi?” I asked, breaking the sad silence. “What Edwin is really planning? How he plans to strip only most of the world of magic?”
“So he told you more, then, huh?” she said.
I nodded.
“Well, only a little,” I said. “Just the part where Elves keep all the magic.”
“I can tell from your tone you don’t agree with the plan,” she said. “Which is fine. From your perspective, I probably wouldn’t either. But trust me, Greg, it will be for the better.”
“How could he possibly pull that off, though?” I asked. “I mean, what if he’s wrong? About even being able to do it?”
“Even if I did know more about the plan and could explain it to you,” she said, “I still wouldn’t.”
“What?” I asked with half-joking offense. “You don’t trust me?”
Lixi laughed, but it wasn’t her usual melodic laugh. This time it sounded empty, laced with anything but joy.
“It’s not so much a trust issue as it is being loyal,” she explained. “If the Elf Lord ordered us not to talk about it, then I will obey those orders.”
I nodded and decided to change the subject. If this was indeed one of our last few conversations, then I didn’t want it to just be me trying to pry information from her.
“Thank you,” I said. “For being so nice to me. For being an actual friend while I’ve been here. I mean, this is probably the best a prisoner has ever been treated at Alcatraz. Even Al Capone, who supposedly got special treatment back when he was a prisoner here!”
“He was a Dwarf, you know,” she said.
I laughed and nodded.
“Yeah, I found that out just a few months ago,” I said. “Which is surprising considering how much he loved money.”
“You’re shocked that not all Dwarves are altruistic saints who only value things pure and noble and nonmonetary?”
There was a long pause and then we both burst out laughing.
“Okay, point taken,” I said. “I mean, I guess Dwarves can be a little self-righteous.”
“Just a little,” she agreed.
We stopped in the yard and sort of just stood there in the sunlight for a moment. I listened to the birds and the comforting sound of the water on the nearby shores of the island.
“So do you think there’s a scenario in which we get to remain friends?” Lixi asked, breaking the moment. “I mean, no matter what happens with Edwin’s plan.”
I breathed out slowly, not liking all the places my mind was headed.
“Probably not,” I said. “At least not friends in the way people think. I’m always going to remember how funny and nice you are. How much I liked hanging out, even as a prisoner. But I really doubt there’s a future where we’re, like, going on bike rides and getting together to play board games and stuff.”
Lixi moved some dirt around with her toe in the yard, drawing an uneven circle.
“You’re probably right,” she said. “But you do have to admit that if Edwin’s plan goes how he’s envisioning, it’s more likely to work out that way. I mean, the way he tells it, everyone will be friends . . . sort of.”
“And you really believe that’s possible?”
“You keep saying Edwin’s plan won’t work,” Lixi said. “And maybe you’re right. But let me ask you this: What’s the Dwarves’ solution? Do you guys even have a plan to help avoid disaster when there are magical monsters everywhere and no modern technology works and all the Humans are confused and terrified? I mean, what are you guys going to do to keep the world from descending into total madness?”
I opened my mouth instinctively, ready to lay out some sort of quick, defensive argument. But then I closed it again. Because, really, what could I say? She was right. If the Dwarves had a master plan, they hadn’t really talked about it much. They were too busy deciding just how badly we would probably fail at any type of strategy. Sure, we were doing MPMs for now, but that wasn’t a long-term plan. It was like sticking Band-Aids on an incision after a major surgery.
Lixi took my silence for what it was.
“So, see?” she said with a smile. “What’s the harm in us trying? Someone has to try something.”
I nodded reluctantly. Whether I agreed with Edwin’s plan or not, it was still better than what the Dwarves had in mind simply by default. Because as far as I knew we had nothing. Unless my dad suddenly snapped out of it and could finally tell us how he thought magic could bring peace.
We hung out in the exercise yard and talked about mostly meaningless stuff for the next hour. I think neither of us wanted to go back to conversations about the end of the world. Or her new dangerous mission. Or anything more significant than which Netflix shows we would miss the most in the new magical world.
As we headed back toward my cell, I tried to choke out a heartfelt goodbye, but Lixi stopped me before it even really got started.
“This isn’t goodbye-goodbye,” she said. “I mean, I don’t leave for at least another day. I’ll still see you tomorrow for sure, Greg.”
I nodded and stepped back into my cell. The guard slid the door shut and the electronic lock engaged.
Lixi shot me one last smile and then walked away and out of view.
It wasn’t the last time I ever saw her, but part of me now sometimes wishes that it had been.
CHAPTER 36
You Know Things Are Bad When the Dwarf Is the Voice of Optimism
Edwin stopped by to visit again after dinner that night.
“How’s my favorite captive doing?” he asked as my cell lock buzzed open.
“Ha. Ha,” I said.
“Gotta laugh about these things,” Edwin said, but he wasn’t smiling.
In fact, if anything, it almost looked more like he’d been crying. His eyes were red, nearly purple. And he looked less like the happy fourteen-year-old I knew he was and more like a hundred-year-old man who’d just been asked to take apart the Great Wall of China brick by brick and move the whole thing ten yards to the west just because.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Everything, dude,” he said with such finality that I didn’t even dare try to tell him things weren’t so bad.
Which almost made me laugh for real. Imagine that
: a Dwarf telling an Elf that things weren’t so bad and to look on the bright side.
“Should I be worried?” I asked.
“We all should be,” he said. “I suppose without TV or Internet in here you don’t know what’s happening.”
I shook my head. “How could I?”
“Magic,” he said. “It’s coming back more rapidly than we expected. The whole island system of Hawaii hasn’t had power for three days. And not everyone can simply dismiss the monster sightings as hoaxes anymore. I mean, there was a full moon not long ago. By our estimates, unwitting Werewolves may have led to the deaths of thousands globally. The very fabric of modern civilization is starting to come apart. You see now why I need to do what I’m planning?”
It would have been hard for me to tell him he was wrong, given all he’d just told me. So I didn’t. Because I wasn’t even sure he was wrong anymore. If it was true that thousands had died from Werewolf attacks alone, then it would be hard to sit there and tell someone that magic coming back was good for the world. That it would bring peace. Even if Edwin’s vision was misguided, he was right in that it would probably keep more innocent people out of harm’s way.
“So what’s stopping you if things are getting so bad?” I asked.
“I can’t tell you that,” he said. “I can’t have you trying to stop me. I know you think you’d be doing the right thing, but you wouldn’t be. So for all of our sakes, I can’t say any more. But it will be soon now. I hope. I just need to oust my mole first.”
“At least tell me what’s happening with Elves?” I said. “Why I saw Elves fighting one another in New Orleans. Are other Elves out to sabotage your efforts?”
“I can’t, Greg . . .”
“You can and should,” I said. “I assume I’m getting out of here eventually? Otherwise why treat me so well? Why try to convince me you’re not the bad guys? And if that’s the case, don’t you think it’d be good for me to know? So I can explain to the Dwarven Council what’s happening. Whose side to take . . . if it comes to that?”
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