Chapter 23 – The Music Box
A part of me wishes I had escaped through that crack in the wall, or “mineshaft” as the parrot had called it. If I’d known that Dylan would drug me like that, betray me, I would have gone and never looked back. I hate myself for thinking this. I know Dylan hadn’t really betrayed me. He’d had no choice. Does it matter anyway? Soon I’ll be gone and all feelings of betrayal and guilt and pain would cease to exist because I would cease to exist.
What does being dead feel like? I was told, and I firmly believed, that when you died there was nothing. Even if there were nothing after death, just darkness, then surely you’d feel and see the darkness? It occurs to me then that nothing makes any sense at all.
I’d read books on religion. I didn’t understand most of it, and the rest of it was fantastical nonsense. Would I like to wake up in a place where I was happy for all eternity? Would I like to be reborn as a bird or a fox? I rather fancy the idea of coming back as a bird. Still, the whole notion of religion seems ridiculous, even if I do live in a world where there are actual gods; gods that have no purpose but to fight and destroy for no apparent reason.
I think back to when I’d met Mixcoatl. He’d seemed utterly confused by everything he was doing. He told me he wanted to stop. He’d even cried. At the time, I’d imagined him more man than god, but that had been before everyone I knew had died. I just didn’t understand him or the gods or the Order of Power or anything, really. Nothing makes sense and it scares me. Something in my life should make sense but nothing does. Even my love for Brian has soured in my mind. Despite the fact that he pushed me away and got married and became a Brother, I know with all my soul that I still love him. The Brian I know is gone but his face still remains. Wasn’t it his eyes and his lips that had made me love him in the first place?
I’m stupid, and I know that. Brian is dead and he never would’ve loved me. Tornado isn’t a man but a god.
“What are you thinking about?” Brother Willow asks me.
I’m in the white and silver room once again, strapped down to an operating table. I can smell abrasive cleaning fluids, burned rubber and other strong smells that I can’t identify. These white walls and silver cupboards and the face of the monster wearing my father’s skin would be the last things my eyes register before I am dumped into nothingness and blackness.
“Why do you need me?” I ask. I try to be calm and it appears to be working. There is nothing I can do to change my fate now.
“The gods need everybody,” says Brother Willow.
“Then why not sweep across the lands in a crusade and capture everybody?”
“There wasn’t a purpose for many Brothers and Sisters before.”
I feel a chill in my heart. “But there is now?”
Brother Willow’s face appears above me, lit in a sinister smile that raped anything good my father had been. “It’s strange that you should mention the word crusade. The Order of Power, like I said, was content to be small and only take the occasional person to be repurposed to serve the great and powerful gods of Earth. Then something changed, and now there is a need for more of us.”
“What happened?”
He is quiet for a moment before he says, “I don’t know.”
I believe him. He seems genuinely angry that he’s been denied this important information. That pleases me, though I strongly suspect that if he did know something he would tell me. After all, Ben Casper isn’t going to be around much longer. I would have liked to face death with at least some answers.
Brother Willow goes on, “Soon the Brothers and Sisters of the Order of Power are going on a crusade. By land, by sea and by air we will conquer the globe and humanity will once again unite under the gods.”
The whole notion of the Order of Power controlling the world sickens me. It’s too monumental for them to achieve, even if they repurpose thousands more people. They only have one repurposing machine for a start. To convert the whole world would take forever. Brother Willow seems confident, though, and he’s certainly not naive. If he believes this crusade could happen, then I believe him, even if my mind repels it as an impossible idea.
Skye is close by, living in a settlement near to the Order of Power’s base. She would be one of the first to be repurposed in the crusade. Oh, Skye, I wish I could save you. I’m so sorry.
Wait a minute… Why hadn’t I thought of this before? There is one very large part of the story that is still mysteriously unsolved. I have an idea of the truth, but it’s so fantastical that it defies belief. First I have another question.
“Why did you murder Harold and Phylida?” I ask nervously.
Brother Willow laughs. “I enjoyed it.”
“There was another reason,” I demand. “Tell me!”
“They had to die, as pure and simple as that,” says Brother Willow callously.
And my suspicions are confirmed.
“How did you know the gods would attack?” I ask him. “Surely their attacks are purely random occurrences?”
Brother Willow smirks. “Sometimes they are.”
“Can you see the future?”
Brother Willow snorts derisively, and I struggle against my bonds. Father’s laugh was gentle and humorous, but this monster makes a mockery out of it. Just when I think that the Order of Power can’t hurt me anymore, all this man has to do is laugh.
“It was the biggest coincidence in the world, wasn’t it?” he says. “Harold Oldman, or whatever his real name is, just happens to find out the location of the God Cannon and then the gods inadvertently destroy the House of Casper? Coincidences do happen fairly often on this world, but sadly this isn’t one of them.
“I called the gods down upon your House.”
It is impossible yet it’s the only thing that makes sense.
“They all had to die,” he says steadily.
“There was no need to kill everyone!”
“Yes there was. Zachary Casper bowed down to peer pressure. Instead of telling his House to mind their own business and trust him instead, he told them all about the God Cannon and the names of the gods. They had to die.”
“But Harold, and Phylida, and the others...”
“The key conspirators would’ve died whether your father revealed the truth or not. They betrayed the gods by conspiring to kill them.”
“Do you feel anything about what you’ve done?”
Brother Willow doesn’t answer me. His face tells me all I need to know. There is no remorse there at all. My House needed to be destroyed, and all my family killed. I didn’t know if I could kill this man before, but I do now. I want to kill him so bad I feel I might burst.
“Do you remember the music box your father brought back three years ago?” Brother Willow inquires.
I wonder what this has to do with anything. He probably wants to stomp on more of my precious memories and ground them to dust. I remember that music box well.
“Your father was captured by the Order of Power when he found evidence that his son was also taken. He led a desperate attack on one of our small outposts where Dylan Casper was kept but he was easily overpowered. The two of them were brought here and repurposed one after the other. We found the code of the God Slayers United branded on the sole of his right foot and we decided to send him back home as a sleeper agent for the Order.
“The repurposing included information to make him think he’d tried to rescue his son from the Order but had failed. Oh how he wept. He really did wish his son was dead, rotting in the ground; anything but being one of us.”
“I fail to see where the music box comes into this.”
I hear it then, a soft tinkling, a warm tune that makes me drift back to days of grief and happiness. I’d called it “Dylan’s Song.” Hearing it now, I think of him.
Brother Willow has the music box in his hands. The lid is open and the cheap crystal inside it is turning and refracting the light. The music plays and everything seems so surreal.
“There are only two devices like this in the entire world.” Brother Willow pauses. “Well, that we know of. The other is supposed to be with the God Cannon. I was given this because your father was known to be the center of the group that wished to kill the gods. If there was ever a need to call the gods down then I had the means in my hands.
“Have you ever really looked at this music box?” I shake my head and Brother Willow continues. “No, I didn’t think you had. If you push inwards at these two ends of the box something interesting happens.”
A tiny slot slides out of the front of the music box. On it is a tiny screen and four buttons numbered 1 to 4.
“Type in the correct code and the crystal starts to play a different tune, one that humans cannot hear. This signal enrages the gods, pulls them towards the music box, like they have no will of their own. Once the gods set eyes upon each other the inevitable happens; they fight and anything around them gets crushed. It’s quite a handy device to have, really.”
I’m disgusted that he can talk so lightly of causing mass destruction. Yet another part of me is secretly in awe. The Order of Power has more power than anybody realizes. They can call upon the gods! That is an ability to inspire more fear than the gods themselves.
“Not that I care, but why do you not use this music box all the time, or threaten to use it?” I wonder. “It would be very effective in getting villages and Houses to bend to your will.”
I really hope I haven’t just given him that very idea.
“Well, it had been in your father’s possession for the last few years,” says Brother Willow. “Besides, we don’t want anyone to know about it.”
“I know about it,” I threaten.
He smiles. “Yes, but you’re going to die in approximately two minutes. What does it matter what you know, Brother Birch?”
“Brother Birch?”
Brother Willow stares into my eyes and says, “Your new name.”
All the while we’ve been talking, the repurposing machine has been humming away. I hadn’t noticed it until now. I need more time to make myself ready. I don’t want to go just yet.
The machine hanging from the ceiling begins to lower itself towards me. I see the red eye on the end of its stalk come closer until it touches my forehead. It feels cold, like clumps of dirt after a frost and it smells metallic like blood. It’s going to drill into my head.
When I hear a scream, a scream loud and full of pain, I assume it’s me. But as the scream turns into gurgling I realize it isn’t me at all, but Brother Willow.
“What’s going on?” I demand.
The repurposing machine begins to ascend back towards the ceiling again, where it clangs to an abrupt stop. Someone starts pulling at the straps that bind me to the table. When I strain to see who it is, I see my brother.
“Dylan?” I exclaim. “What’s going on?”
I sit up on the table as I’m freed and notice Brother Willow panting heavily, leaning over the side of the surgical instruments table. There is a puddle of blood on the floor. Nestling in it is Brother Willow’s hand.
I’m utterly speechless as Dylan picks up the hand and, turning to me, says, “Are you coming or what? We have to move now!”
I stare with horror at the look of utter amazement on Brother Willow’s face. Then I realize something; he’s utterly, utterly defenseless. All I have to do is take one of the surgical instruments, maybe that bloody one, which I assume Dylan, cut off his hand with.
I swipe up a smaller scalpel and hold it against Brother Willow’s throat. He is whimpering with pain and he looks right at me, scared out of his mind. I know I can do this. This man has killed my father and brought down death upon my entire family. He deserves to die. He deserves every slice of pain that’s coming to him and more.
And just like I’d been taught to do with animals I swipe the scalpel across his throat with one swift, savage slash.
“You killed them all!” I roar. I stab the scalpel into his chest, hard, time and time again. Blood splashes onto me but I continue stabbing down and down, gritting my teeth.
I yell in protest at Dylan as he tries to pull me away. All I can concentrate on is making sure this monster dies.
“BEN!” Dylan shouts. He hammers his hand down on my arm until I drop the scalpel. He grabs me, turns me around to face him, and shakes me until I order him to stop.
“He’s dead, Ben,” he whispers. “He’s dead.”
I place my head on my brother’s shoulder and cry in relief.