Two of the metal legs stretched forward while the remaining metal limbs twitched. Marcel flashed his teeth in jubilation and he continued to manipulate the levers and buttons in the front cockpit. Its legs labored to move, the crusted rust having penetrated its joints. The boy pushed a red lever, making the spider lurch towards the audience.
Tlacatl let out a womanish scream. He threw himself out of his seat and retreated towards the exit. The spydread's front two legs pulled the rest of its iron body forward again while Marcel let out a high-pitched cackle.
Geller was mystified, and all doubt of the boy's power washed away with the long strands of sweat streaming down his face. The machine took another two steps towards him, and all of his men abandoned their seats and cowered in the corners of the workshop. Marcel's face sharpened; his eyes narrowed.
The spydread raised its front right leg, the metal foot looking more like a harpoon. Dazed, Geller's legs refused to move. Confusion filled his cooked brain, and his ecstasy melted into terror.
Before Geller could shake his foggy mind from its inertia, Kamau lunged at him, grabbing his limp body and slamming both of them onto the hard concrete floor. The spydread's leg crashed down, smashing Geller's chair into splinters.
Geller's mouth flew open, but his throat was too dry to produce any sound. The machine plowed through all the empty chairs. Although the legs and its fat metal body looked cumbersome, the spydread moved at a deceptively fast pace. In seconds, Geller only saw the rear of the machine. Bluish steam hissed out from its small exhaust pipe.
Kamau jumped to his feet and drew his pistol.
“No!” Geller's throat cracked. “Don't shoot him!”
Geller's men lowered their guns. They watched Marcel maneuver the deadly spider through the chamber, up towards the corridor. Kamau slid his sidearm back into his belt and ran towards the spydread. His powerful legs bent and uncoiled, propelling his stout body upwards onto the iron spider. He let out a deep grunt as he crawled from the rear towards the cockpit of the machine. His large hands gripped the sides of the iron spider's torso to keep the rest of him from sliding off. The machine was in mid-stride before coming to a halt.
“Don't hurt him!” Geller got to his feet and sprinted towards the now motionless spydread. “He's worthless to me dead.”
Kamau leaped off the machine. He held Marcel up by the back of the shirt. The boy flopped like a fish before being dropped onto the floor. Geller bent over the child. Although the boy had nearly killed him, he felt like kissing Marcel at that moment.
“Clever boy. You're lucky the heat didn't diminish my wits, as my man Kamau was ready to put a bullet through your precious head.” Geller wiped the grime off the boy's face. “You are special indeed.”
Tlacatl was still breathing deeply. He approached the spydread with apprehension as if it might come back to life on its own. “I can't believe it. How did he do that?”
Geller touched the rear leg of the spydread, the metal still hot to the touch from the hydraulics. “I told you, the boy is gifted.” He turned to Kamau. “Take the boy back to my car and get him cleaned up.”
With a click of the heels, Kamau took Marcel by the arm and whisked him under one of the spydread's outstretched legs and exited the chamber. The spider hissed a final burst of steam from the rear exhaust pipes.
“Leaving so soon?” Tlacatl said, his thin body slithering up to Geller. “Why in such a hurry?”
Geller fought the urge to give his men the order to dispatch the useless king, but he let it go. Geller was in a merciful mood, so he simply smiled and said, “I'm leaving at once.”
“I would like to make you an offer for the boy,” Tlacatl called, his quick little footsteps following behind.
“You don't have the means.” Geller pointed to the giant spider partially blocking the corridor. “Keep the repaired spydread, compliments of Marcel Bouvier. Enjoy.”
With a quick hand signal, Geller's men escorted him out of the stifling workshop and back to his car. Riches would soon greet him south of the Mexihcan border in Azincaya, the land of the dead.
THE SCARY DARK MAN STOOD in the corner of the car and watched Marcel change shirts. The beige one Marcel removed was covered in grease, sweat, and blue residue. He trembled while he slid the new shirt over his body. Kamau stood as still as a statue with bulging crossed arms. He wondered if the bodyguard was going to strike him for his failed escape attempt.
Geller had remained in the other car. A third passenger car was coupled to this one, and Marcel was sure that's where Geller was keeping the other boys he had picked up three days ago. He could hear the merchant yelling at them.
Marcel made his way to his small desk. He craved to read any one of the books stacked high in three separate piles. The large volume on metallurgy was especially fascinating. He felt Kamau's hard stare, and panic overwhelmed his tired body. The bodyguard looked as if he could spring to life at any moment and cut his throat.
“You read all of them?” Kamau asked, his voice deep and rich.
Marcel never heard the man speak before, and the warrior's speech was coated with an accent that sounded otherworldly. He turned to Kamau, his constricted throat not allowing him to reply.
“How did you make that machine come to life?” Kamau leaned back, his menacing posture relaxing.
Geller still hadn't returned, and now Marcel half-wished the old man was back in the car so Kamau could go back to being the guard. He recalled how swiftly Kamau had pounced on the spydread and lifted him up out of the cockpit, ending his escape. The man emanated raw power, even when at ease.
“You won't speak to me, boy?” Kamau said, flashing his white teeth against his dark lips in a playful manner. “You are mad at me, huh? Mad that I foiled your plan?”
Marcel couldn't help it now. “Yes. I would have gotten away if it wasn't for you.”
He felt himself stiffen and recoil at his own words.
“I couldn't let you go. You are worth a fortune to all of us,” Kamau said. “What you did was a miracle. It would have taken Tlacatl's engineers several seasons to do what you did in a mere hours. I am in awe of your talents.”
A shot of warmth filled Marcel's cheeks at the compliment. It sounded sincere. He played with the cover of the metallurgy book nervously, unsure of what to say. His apprehension ebbed away.
“How did you do it? I saw you touching the machine for a long time, with your eyes closed. What happens when you do that?”
Kamau seemed genuinely interested in Marcel's ability. Geller was interested too, but it was more out of how much profit he could make. How the merchant was going to make money was still a mystery. He was going to ask Kamau what they intended to do with him, but he didn't want the bodyguard to get angry.
“It's difficult to explain,” Marcel finally answered. “When I touch a machine, it speaks to me. I can read its thoughts.”
Kamau chuckled. “Machines don't have thoughts, little one.”
The hiss from the steam outside made Marcel jump. With a few hard jerks, it seemed the train was moving again. Confusion lingered in Marcel's mind.
“Master Geller is going to be riding in the car behind us for the final leg of our journey. He is overseeing the young boys' training.” Kamau looked away, turning towards one of the windows. “In Azincaya, the people like to watch the children fight in the arena before the main contest.”
Marcel's throat constricted. “Is that what he plans for me?”
“No, little one. He would never dream of you even suffering a paper cut,” Kamau sat on the fancy bench across from him. “How can machines have thoughts?”
“They don't have thoughts like people,” Marcel said. “Machines can be in different...conditions. When I touch a machine, I can feel every little piece inside. If it's broken, I can see how all the pieces are related to one another.”
Kamau lay his head all the way back, his neck cradled by the arm of the couch. Marcel stared at the metal sliding door, and he wondered if
he should make another run for it. Jumping off the train and hoping he didn't kill himself wasn't a sound plan, however. Marcel's fear paralyzed him. One act of stupid bravery per day was more than good enough for him.
“That sounds complicated,” Kamau said while staring at the ceiling.
Marcel opened the metallurgy book and skimmed the table of contents. “It isn't. It's simple. Simple to me.”
Kamau sighed. “I understand how difficult this is for you, being away from your home. I met your stepfather in Francia. Pierce was a moron that talked too much.”
A snicker escaped Marcel's mouth. It felt good to laugh. There hadn't been much to laugh about in a long time. “You're right about that.”
“Believe me, you are better off without him as your caregiver.”
That was true, but he didn't want to waste one single second thinking about Pierce. Marcel missed his mother. Would he ever see her again? It had been days since he last cried, and keeping his agony to himself was taking its toll. The pit of his stomach hurt, and he felt like he had been thrown down a dark well. Falling and falling.
“You miss your mother. I see it in your eyes.” Kamau said. “That pain will pass in time. You will be busy fixing machines, building them. Inventing them. You will one day create something that will change the world. With your genius, who knows what wonderful things you can do?”
There was some truth in this. Marcel had kept his power a secret all of his life. Once in a while, he would wander to a piece of machinery so he could talk with it. Until only several days ago, he wasn't sure of the full extent of his abilities. Repairing the broken projector Geller first presented to him was simple, but it did give him confidence.
Talking with the spydread machine was more complicated, but it too felt easy to him. Maybe someday he would use his power to reunite with his mother. Until then, he'd fill his days and nights working with machines. He'd yet to discover the limits of his power. Maybe the pain would go away as Kamau said it would.
Even while he began to absorb the contents of the metallurgy book into his brain, he knew in his heart the ache would always be there. No machine could make him feel better.
Marcel wanted to think his mother was out there looking for him. But he was so far away now. No matter how strong she was, she could never find him. His eyes glossed over the words in his book, but all he could do was think about his mother.
IT WAS ZEN'S TURN TO pilot the locomobile, and Enapay seemed relieved to get more sleep. Neva decided to stay in the locomobile. She sat next to Zen with her boots propped up on the console. Once in a while, she'd sigh and stare at the pencil drawing of Geller and Marcel before tucking it away. When Neva finally spoke, it startled Zen.
“You know, I don't know the reason why you left your home to come to Agrios.” Her voice was warm and motherly. “Why did you leave Nihon?”
Zen kept his eyes and hands steady. The dirt road was rough, and the locomobile's rigid wheels were unforgiving. Without looking up, he replied, “I told you, I was sent on a quest.”
“What's that?” Neva swung her boots off of the control panel.
“You have firsthand knowledge of Iberia's growing power,” Zen replied. “You said you fought for your homeland in an uprising against them.”
She nodded.
“Iberia is building up their forces along the western and northern borders of Xia, our neighbors to the west. They plan on sweeping east, and eventually, Iberia will invade Nihon. We have evidence they have developed even more advanced weapons to use against us.”
Neva showed understanding with her eyes.
“Xia is mired in a civil war. With the country in such disarray, they will be unable to put up any kind of resistance against Iberian forces. Once Xia is under Iberian control, the invaders will continue their march towards Nihon and the other countries of the Orient.”
Neva leaned forward. “Okay, but what does this have to do with your quest?”
“I have been sent to Agrios to search for the Sky Blade. It is an ancient weapon, forged from the ore believed to have fallen from the heavens. The sword is supposed to possess otherworldly properties. More importantly, the legend says that the one to find the Sky Blade shall rule all of Xia. Possessing the Sky Blade would be the final step in reestablishing the entire Sun Nation.”
“Oh, that's what Enapay meant when he spoke of a sword made from star rock,” Neva remarked.
Verbalizing his mission to her made the mist of doubt settle on Zen's skin, like a slow acting poisonous cloud. Neva was silent, and Zen wondered if she was trying to find the right words to describe how foolish his quest was. Even with all the signs of being on the right path, Enapay's doubt caught fire in Zen's mind.
“Do you need a sword to resurrect the old Sun Nation?” Neva asked finally.
“We are an ancient society, and our ancestors have documented its history in exquisite detail. Xia and Nihon, and all the kingdoms of the Orient, still believe in the old ways. To the rest of the world, it is only a legend. To us, it is real. I must find the Sky Blade and make the people of Xia stop their bloody war.”
Neva touched his shoulder. “Then what? Will it be you who leads them against Iberia?” She wore a teasing smile on her face. “Why did your nation send you?”
This woman bared her soul yesterday, and maybe it was time for him to do the same. He trusted her, and so he decided to share his secret.
“My father, the king of Nihon, sent me on this mission.”
Neva slapped him jokingly on the shoulder. “So we have royalty on board. I knew there was something about you.” She squinted at him. “If you're the prince of Nihon, why not bring an entire army with you to find this Sky Blade?”
“For my people, the sacred quest is a spiritual pilgrimage and must be carried out as such. I traveled alone, bringing only my barest essentials. The Sky Blade must only be found by one with the purist of hearts, and the sacred quest insures this.”
She stared at him, her eyes barely blinking.
Zen found himself smiling. “It does sound like a fantasy, does it not?”
“It sure does,” Neva said. “What if the wrong person finds the Sky Blade?”
Zen shook his head. “I am not entirely sure. One version of the legend details death and destruction once when the enchanted sword fell into the wrong hands. It has the power to enhance what is inside your heart. It can bring everlasting peace or never-ending-suffering.”
“Hopefully, you won't have to worry about that,” Neva said, getting up from her chair. “If there's anyone with a heart pure enough to have the Sky Blade, it's you Zen. I sincerely mean it.”
“So you do not think I am foolish for believing in my quest? Enapay thinks I am naive. I must admit, at times, I too have my doubts.” He noticed the warmth of his amulet under his shirt pulsating in rhythm with his heartbeat.
“Your mother's message about my boy is enough for me to believe in you,” Neva said. “Who am I to question your story anyway? Look at me. My son talks to machines.”
Zen kept his eyes on the dirt highway. “It does sound farfetched.”
“It's unexplained, but that doesn't make it untrue.” Neva started for the door. “Don't worry about Enapay. He's already reexamining his thinking.”
Neva slid the door open, the warm wind from the desert filling the cabin. “The stone medallion you wear around your neck is lighting up. What does it mean?”
Zen turned to her for a moment. “It means I am on the right path with keeping my promise to two mothers.”
Neva returned to his side, bent down and embraced him. Zen kept both hands on the steering wheel, but he imagined the arms around his shoulders were his mother's. The warmth of Neva's motherly gesture seemed to outshine even his glowing amulet, and Zen felt confident he was following the course foreseen by his mother.
MARCEL HARDLY SAW GELLER DURING the next three days of their journey through the desolate land. Kamau stayed in the passenger car with Marcel the entire time. The bo
dyguard asked him various questions concerning his ability with machines. Marcel was curious about Kamau's sincere interest, but it was a welcome change to Geller's cold and hungry stares.
Whenever Kamau seemed to sense Marcel's tongue had tired, he took over the conversation and talked about his home. The only things Marcel knew about Nubia were from books and maps, but Kamau painted vivid images of his homeland from his descriptive stories.
While Kamau talked about his three brothers and one sister and about growing up in a family steeped in military history, Marcel closed his books and listened with attentive ears. Maybe it was the longing in the warrior's voice that drew Marcel into the bodyguard's narrative about life in Nubia.
The continent was divided among twenty-two kingdoms, and war had been a way of life for Kamau's family. His father was a renowned military leader. Amidst politics and jealousy, a trusted comrade betrayed Kamau's father. One night, the traitors invaded his home and killed nearly all of his family members.
Only Kamau and his little sister were able to get away.
Not all of his stories were horrific. In fact, most of what he talked about was happy memories. When he spoke of the fun times he had training in school and playing with friends, the dark warrior smiled and spoke lightly. Nubia's kingdoms eventually forged a long lasting peace. Marcel was captivated by Kamau's storytelling, and it made the three days of being stuck in the passenger car slip by quickly.
The caravan made only seven stops along the way, and Marcel felt uneasy being out in the alien and barren landscape. Even the sunlight felt eerie. In Mexihco, it had been desert followed by swamps. As they continued traveling, the everlasting doldrums gave the journey a nightmarish quality, as if the world wasn't real anymore. The land in Azincaya felt dead. When Marcel exited the passenger train to relieve himself, he saw Geller's men pacing in circles. They looked just as nervous as Marcel felt. Nothing grew from the earth here.