Jess Lebow - The Darksteel Eye

Slobad put his arm around Glissa’s shoulder.

“I miss them,” she said.

Slobad sat down. “Yes.”

“I think about them every day.” Glissa tried to hold back her emotions, but they were too overpowering, and she let out a sob.

“I know.”

The elf looked up at the goblin, puzzled. “How could you know that?”

The goblin shrugged. “What? Think goblins got no feelings too? Slobad hear you talk ’bout parents, sister, friend Kane. Slobad lose friends too.”

“I didn’t mean that. I know you have feelings.”

Slobad smiled.

Glissa wiped away a tear. “Will you tell me about some of the friends you lost?”

Slobad nodded. “When Slobad little goblin, go with other goblins to hunt squirrels.” His head drooped as he spoke. “Little goblins surprised by two clockwork dragons.”

“Clockwork dragons? I thought they were just a myth.”

“Think Slobad make something up, huh?” snorted the goblin. “They real, you bet. Kill all the goblins.” He nodded. “Except Slobad.”

“What happened?”

“One minute Slobad deep in crevasse, poking for squirrels. Then screaming. Slobad hit head.” The goblin rubbed his scalp, as if he was remembering the pain.

“Someone was holding you?” Glissa scratched her head. “You mean like with a rope?”

“No. Crazy elf. By ankles. Never catch squirrels before, huh?”

“What?” Glissa shifted to face the goblin. “By the ankles? I’ve hunted a lot of things but never that way.”

“ ’Course,” said Slobad, he held up both arms. “How you think goblin get really good squirrels, huh?”

Glissa laughed. “That’s a good question.” She settled back into her place on the bed. “I guess I hadn’t thought of that. Anyway, what happened next?”

“Slobad climb back up, nothing of other goblins but bloody bones and bits.” Slobad cringed.

“That’s terrible.”

The elf and the goblin sat silently for a while, looking at the floor. Glissa massaged her forehead and eye lids, feeling the wetness from her tears cover her fingertips.

“Do you still think about your friends?”

The goblin nodded.

“Every day?”

The goblin nodded again.

“Does it ever get any better? I mean, does thinking about them hurt less?”

At this, Slobad lowered his eyes. “Depends. Sometimes, not so bad, huh? Other times … not so good.”

Glissa nodded. She wiped the rest of the tears off of her face and looked at Bosh still sitting at the foot of his bed.

“How about you?” she asked. “Now that you have your memory back is there anything you miss?”

“Yes,” replied the golem, his voice rumbling in his chest. “I miss being all metal.” Bosh lifted his arm up to reveal a large tear near his elbow. A thick red and black liquid dripped from the opening.

Glissa jumped up from the bed. “You’re bleeding.” Crouching down beside the golem, she examined the wound.

A large patch right above his elbow had changed from a dark gray to a lighter peach color that resembled the complexion of human skin. Up close, it looked as if part of Bosh’s forearm had simply transformed from metal into flesh.

Glissa poked at the wound with her finger. The flesh was primarily just on the surface. She could feel the metal underneath. Only near his elbow did it feel more like the deep, meaty flesh of an elf or a goblin.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“Hurt?”

“Can you feel my finger touching you?”

“Yes.”

“Does it feel bad?”

“Yes.”

She and Slobad spoke at the same time. “It hurts.”

Glissa examined the golem more extensively. In several other places, the dark metal seemed paler. She turned and looked at Slobad.

“How could this be happening? I mean every flesh creature has some metal in her body-” she held up her own arm as proof-“but I’ve never seen a metal creature become flesh.”

This was true. Every organic creature on Mirrodin had some metal attached or growing from its body. The only completely flesh creature she’d met had been the troll Chunth, but he was very old. Everyone else, Slobad, her parents, even the other trolls, had bits of metal on their bodies. Glissa’s own forearms and shins were covered in metallic scales and claws.

Slobad jumped down off the bed and padded over to his two friends. He leaned in close, looking at the fleshy patches on Bosh’s arm and abdomen. The goblin climbed up the golem’s shoulder, made a fist, and knocked on Bosh’s head.

Bong … Bong … Bong .

“Feel that?” asked the goblin.

“No, but I can hear it.”

The goblin grabbed a piece of peach-colored flesh between two fingers. “How ’bout this, huh?” He pinched Bosh.

The golem flinched, tossing Slobad from his shoulder. “Yes.”

The goblin landed hard on the bed behind the golem. The frame creaked, the mattress sagged then rebounded, and Slobad was tossed back into the air, bouncing twice on the soft bed before finally coming to rest.

“Please,” said Bosh, “stop touching me. It feels very strange.”

“I’m sorry, Bosh,” Glissa said. “We’re only trying to help.”

“I know,” replied the golem, hanging his head.

“It makes me sad to see you this way, Bosh.” Glissa touched his arm lightly. “I wish I knew what was happening.”

Bosh nodded.

“Until we figure it out, you’re going to have to be more careful about what you smash into.”

“Crazy elf is right,” agreed the goblin. “Slobad can fix broken golem, not broken person, huh?”

Bosh poked at the wound on his arm. “I am still a golem.”

“Yes, you’re still a golem, but now you are …” Glissa fished around for the right word.

“Fleshy,” finished the goblin.

Glissa glared at rumpled green creature. “You’re not helping, Slobad.” She turned back to Bosh, watching the metal man poke and prod at the blotch of skin that was now part of his frame. She took a deep breath and threw her arms in the air. “Now you’re just more like me.”

Bosh stopped his examination and turned his attention on the elf. “Like you?”

“I guess so. I mean, I’m mostly flesh, but look.” She held up her leg, tracing the line between where her shin stopped and the metal plate that grew from her skin began. “We live in a metal world. The ground, the trees, even the grass is made of the stuff.”

“So are golems,” interjected Bosh.

“Yes, and so are golems. Even so, with everything else made of metal, maybe it’s not so bad to be a little ‘fleshy.’ ”

* * * * *

“Damn this flesh body.” Memnarch lifted himself from his serum infusion device. “Why is Memnarch cursed with such imperfection?”

Malil stood by the door, waiting out another of his master’s tirades.

“But with the elf, yes, with the elf, Memnarch will be metal again.” He crossed to the scrying pool. “No. Memnarch will not be metal. Memnarch will be better than metal.” The guardian shuffled across the floor of his laboratory, shaking his head. “No. No. That is foolish. There is no such thing. Is not that right, Malil?”

“What’s right, Master?”

Memnarch lifted himself away from the scrying pool, turning his whole body toward his servant. “Have you not been following what we have been telling you? How do you expect to learn if you do not listen to us?”

“I have been listening, Master, but I must confess, I do not completely understand.”

“Memnarch understands enough for the both of us.”

“Yes, Master.”

“The Creator understands enough for all three of us and worlds beyond.”

“The Creator, Master?”

Memnarch scowled. “Yes, the Creator.”