Kenneth Oppel - Such Wicked Intent

The huge mass at the bottom now looks less like stone than a cocoon made of dense fibrous material. As I stare, the entire thing shudders. Beneath the surface I see a faint, confusing shadow. A segment of the gray cocoon bulges outward, revealing the shape of a hand-but a hand with fingers longer and larger than any normal hand. A heartrending wail blasts past me, sounding like a creature enduring unspeakable torture.

It has changed. There’s no denying it. What was once stone has now softened. And whatever’s inside seems more awake.

Suddenly from its surface a strange dark shoot erupts. As I watch in silent awe, it unfurls like some supernatural plant to a height of several inches. Then it thickens and becomes fleshier, almost like a pustule.

Within seconds it bursts, releasing a black butterfly. Timidly it circles about, slowly but surely rising with each stroke of its fledgling wings. In amazement I stare, my excitement mounting with every beat of my heart.

I have discovered their source.

I find Konrad in the armory, practicing his lunges against a dummy. For a moment I watch as his unbated saber savagely pierces the dummy’s shoulder, its gut, its heart.

“There won’t be anything left of him before long,” I say.

He turns, tries to grin, and then just looks at me expectantly.

“It’s a little changed. Not much,” I say.

“You’re lying. I know you too well, Victor.”

“The stone doesn’t seem quite as… thick,” I admit.

He paces, restlessly swiping his saber back and forth.

“My new body, is it all right?” he asks.

“Of course. It’s growing quickly.”

“How long till it’s ready?” he demands.

I’ve seen fear in him before now, but this is desperation, crackling in his voice.

“Three nights.”

“Who’s to say that thing won’t get free before then?”

“I can’t see how-”

“I want to kill it, Victor!” He strides over to the racks of weaponry and pulls down a crossbow and a leather quiver of bolts.

“How do you know you can kill it?” I ask.

Frantically he pulls down a halberd, a long sword, a shield. “I don’t know if I have the power. But you do.” He looks at me, a child’s need for reassurance etched across his features. “You killed that evil spirit when it was strangling Analiese. You can kill this. Kill it for me, Victor.”

My heart aches. “I can’t,” I say.

“Of course you can. You’re the living. You have light and heat and-”

I stammer out an excuse. “I–I don’t think it deserves to be killed. I couldn’t do it.”

I refuse to do it.

But I don’t tell him this. That creature in the pit, whatever it is, is birthing butterflies, and I crave the power they give me.

“Then, I’ll do it myself,” Konrad says, shouldering a crossbow and heading for the doorway.

“I can’t let you do that,” I say, blocking his path with my light and heat. “It’s not safe.”

He winces. “Stand aside, Victor.”

From down the corridor comes the sound of Elizabeth’s worried voice. “Konrad, are you there?”

“I’m here!” he calls out, and we both move back in surprise as she bursts into the armory.

“What are you doing here?” I demand. “Did you break into my room?”

“No. I’m in my own.”

“Then, how did you get the elixir?” I ask.

“I thought to take a small vial for myself the last time,” she says, unable to hide her pleasure at my shock. “Why should you have the only supply?”

“But you came in without the spirit clock,” I tell her. “What if I hadn’t been inside? Do you have any idea how reckless that was?”

“Since when has recklessness bothered you, Victor?”

“You might’ve lost track of time and let your body die!”

“I only mean to stay a short time,” she says defensively, “though it took me long enough to find you, Konrad.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, looking more worried than ever. “Is something the matter with my body?”

“No, no, you’re fine. Is Analiese around?” Elizabeth asks in a lowered voice.

“I don’t know where she is,” Konrad replies. “Why?”

“After all that talk of making a body for her,” Elizabeth says, “I decided to find out a little more about her. It turns out there are household accounts of every servant employed here, going back a hundred years.”

“Where did you find those?” I ask in amazement.

“Maria’s office. I crept in about an hour ago.”

“And?” Konrad says.

“There’s no record of any young woman called Analiese who worked here and died of fever in the house.”

My brother is silent for a moment. “Well, someone made an error and left her out.”

“The records seem very thorough,” Elizabeth says.

Konrad frowns. “You’re suggesting she doesn’t exist?”

I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him speak so irritably to Elizabeth.

“She’s not who she says she is!” Elizabeth says.

“Why would she lie?” I ask.

“I don’t know, but I don’t trust her. She must have a secret.”

A small cloud of black butterflies flutters into the armory. They land upon Elizabeth and me, and then dart away on their brilliantly colored wings.

Konrad shakes his head. “Elizabeth, I can’t believe it. She’s only ever been kind to me, my whole time here.”

“You talk about it like it’s a lifetime.”

“It feels like a lifetime,” Konrad shoots back.

Elizabeth’s eyes flash. “Well, why don’t we make a body for her, and when you come out, you two can spend another lifetime together!”

Konrad looks truly pained. “Elizabeth, you’re mistaken. I’m not in love with her. I only wanted to rescue her from this place-and from that thing in the pit, which is waking! Victor, tell her!”

“It does seem more active,” I concur, and touch my pocket, for my spirit clock is at long last tapping, lethargically at first, as though waking from a long slumber, and then with an angry insistence.

“Our time is up,” I say.

For the first time Elizabeth seems to notice the weapons Konrad holds. “You were going to attack it?”

Konrad nods.

“It’s too dangerous, too rash,” I say.

He gives a hollow laugh. “I never thought I’d hear you call me rash.”

“I beg you not to do it,” I say. “Please.”

My twin frowns. “What are you not telling me?”

“Listen to me,” I say. “That creature in the pit that so frightens you-it’s the source! It creates the butterflies. I saw one grow from its very surface and fly!”

Konrad shakes his head angrily. “Ah, I see. This is for you, Victor. I know how much you want these things for their power!”

“Yes,” I admit. “But it’s also for you, Konrad. One of these things is giving you a new body. If we destroy this creature in the pit, who’s to say you won’t also be destroying all the butterfly spirits it gave rise to!”

Konrad is silent, chest rising and falling heavily.

“I agree with Victor,” Elizabeth says, surprising me. “We can’t risk it. And you’ll be out in just a few days. Promise me you won’t try to harm it.”

Konrad looks at her uncertainly, then nods.

“It won’t harm you,” Elizabeth tells him reassuringly, and before turning to leave, adds, “It’s Analiese I’d watch.”

When I woke the next morning, I was startled by the familiar throbbing pain in my missing fingers. Quickly I pulled off my nightshirt and sat with forced patience on the edge of my bed until I saw a quick fluid shadow move across my flesh.

The butterfly spirit was still upon me. So why was I feeling pain? For three blissful days I’d been completely healed, bursting with energy. But as I stood and opened my curtains, I realized I’d slept later than usual, and that my body felt weary. A first tendril of alarm spread through me. Was it possible the butterfly spirit, just like any earthly medicine, lost its effect after a while?