All That Is Red (9 page)

“Nonsense,” he replied. “Besides, I think a distraction is quite necessary and well overdue by now.” He chuckled and I painted on a smile to make him feel at ease.
“And might I congratulate the new leader of our revolution.” He bowed, tipping his imaginary hat.

“News seems to travel fast around here.”

“Well the commander dropped by a few minutes ago. In fact, you just missed her.”

“Then you know that the boy will be acting in my stead.”

“Yes, and a wise choice at that. We don’t want to experience a repeat of what happened with the first cause. He’s one of them and they’ve already accepted him. He really
cares.” Gerrard nodded. “You know, the commander had her heart set on you for a while.”

“It’s only been a few days ...”

“Nonetheless, she was positive that whoever would defeat The Pure One would personally find her and the Red cause. When you arrived, the first thing the commander said was, ‘Our
leader has come.’”

“And she was right,” I raised my brows at him. “Our leader, at least for the time being, is the boy.”

The general winked. “If you say so.” He paused. “General Devonport will need some winning over though.”

“Does she have some misgivings about me? Some doubt?”

“Oh no. It’s not that. She has full faith in you. She really believes that you’re the one the prophecy talks about.”

I frowned. “Then does she have something against the boy?”

“Nothing. She doesn’t have anything against anyone that I know of, but she doesn’t like the boy talking to the people for you. The commander tried explaining that it’s
mainly a security issue, but she thinks the people have a right to know. She also doesn’t think the boy is good enough.”

“What will it take for her to accept the boy?”

“She’ll need to respect him first.”

“And how will we accomplish that?”

“We can’t do anything. It’s up to the boy,” Gerrard replied..

“But we have to help ...”

“If he is as good a leader as you say, then I am sure he can think of some way,” he said. “How did he take the news?”

“What news?”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling around the edges. “The news that he’ll be looked up to as the new leader of the Red cause.”

“The commander and I haven’t told him yet.”

“So he doesn’t know?”

“Not yet.”

“And when do you and the commander plan on telling him this?”

I shrugged, “I guess it’s up to the commander.”

At that point, the same Trigon boy I saw upon entering came hurrying back in, but the general didn’t seem to notice. He tried clearing his throat rather loudly, but that didn’t seem
to work either. “General?” the young boy spoke rather hesitantly.

“Yes?” Gerrard sighed.

“The commander wishes to speak to you,” he said. “Both of you,” he added, looking at me for the first time.

“Speak of the devil ...” Gerrard muttered under his breath. He turned and winked at me. “I think we both know what this will be about,” he continued. “Well then,
shall we?”

We walked together to the commander’s quarters, with me trailing a few steps behind the general. He led with an authoritative step and I had no choice but to follow. When we entered the
room though, we were two abreast. We found the commander, her secretary, and General Devonport already seated at the table. Careful to leave the seat at the foot of the table vacant, we took two of
the empty ones.

Seeing the general and I arrive together, the commander hurriedly dismissed her secretary and said, “Good. Then you’re caught up to speed with the happenings?”

Gerrard simply nodded his consent.

“And you agree with the decision?” General Devonport asked haughtily. It seemed that the boy had been the topic of discussion before we entered. As predicted, General Devonport
seemed to be the only one who was set against the idea.

“Wholeheartedly,” Gerrard responded, muting Devonport.

Staring straight ahead, she sat motionless with her hands clasped together in her lap. She was clearly unhappy with the way things were unfolding.

I caught the commander’s nod in my direction and saw that she had fended off a smile. She had already accepted the idea of having the boy become the new face of the cause and she now
endlessly advocated in its interest.

Whatever thin conversation remained came to a startling halt when the boy arrived. His gate was slow and easy with arms swinging at his sides. He seemed to be in no rush at all and he had the
air that he just happened to have wandered into the room.

“You wanted to see me?” he asked, looking straight at the commander.

“Yes,” the commander said. “Please take a seat.” She motioned to the only chair left empty, the foot of the table. “We all wanted to see you.”

Silence swathed the room. The only audible sound was the scraping of the boy’s chair, as he took his seat. He seemed to suspect nothing, but it was difficult to read his face. None of us
knew how to act or in what way to break the news to him. Even the commander seemed a bit flustered and nervous at the daunting task of asking him to lead the cause. I suspected that in the back of
everyone’s mind was the lingering possibility that the boy would walk away from our proposition.

“We have an offer we would like to put to you,” the commander continued cautiously. “We have nominated you to be the face of the Red cause. Granted, the decisions won’t
be yours to make and you are only the cover for our actual leader, but you will be the public face.” The silence in the room was painful. “Well?”

The boy grinned. “That isn’t a question. It’s a statement.”

“Will you risk everything, even your own life, for the good of the rebellion?”

The boy glanced my way and smiled at me as if he knew everything.

“I will be honored to.”

The silence fell heavy on everyone’s chests and we all sighed in relief. Even the commander looked joyous and demanded a toast to the cause.

She made her way over to the table at the side of the room and poured us all a glass of a dark Red liquid. It looked almost like the wine my parents drank on their anniversaries, but it was
noticeably more Red. When she passed me my glass, the crystal felt heavy in my hand, as if asking me why I could not feel happy for him. I wanted to respond, but I couldn’t find the
words.

“To you,” the commander said, looking at the boy. We all raised our glasses to him and I suspect we all in turn wondered what would become of both the cause and our people.

The Red liquid tasted sweet and dry at the same time. It felt thick as honey on my tongue, yet it slid easily down my throat.

The commander pulled out a large scroll of paper and a thick book from a drawer in her desk. She laid both out in front of her seat at the table. Everyone immediately gathered around her and I
followed suit. The commander had opened the book to what looked like a random page. There was a drawing on the page, sketched crudely in aged brown ink, but I couldn’t begin to guess what it
was. The commander beckoned the boy and me closer.

We acquiesced, choosing places to either side of her. We both stared intently at the minute picture and as we did, it literally unfolded in front of us. We drew in a collective breath as we
watched the random dark scribbles form a detailed picture of the commander, and the rest of us, toasting the boy. It was the exact same scene that had taken place only minutes before.

“It’s a book containing our history that progresses, as time itself progresses,” the commander explained to the boy and me. Her breath was a telltale sign that she was just as
much in awe of the book as the rest of us. “It doesn’t have a beginning,” she explained, flipping to what would be the first page of the book.

However, as she did so, more pages before that one instantaneously appeared. Every page had a brilliantly intricate picture showing some scene or other. There were a few I recognized, such as
one of the boy, Lilith, and me meeting the Trigon hunting group. The scene was a simple drawing and nothing more than just that, but it looked real, as if someone had stolen it from this world.

“But it does have an end,” she said, showing us the last page. On it were brown scribbles, much like the ones I had just seen. They didn’t show a picture or a pattern though
and they just lay there in a confusing array of angles and shapes.

“With each important decision or choice that affects the Red cause, another picture becomes clear,” Gerrard explained. “It all leads to some big ending.” He pointed to
the last page.

“We just don’t know whether it’s good or bad yet,” The commander concluded.

“Does it tell you if it was the right choice?” the boy asked.

“The right choice?” the commander said. “There’s no such thing as a right or wrong choice. It’s all subjective.”

The boy didn’t seem satisfied with her answer, but he remained silent.

The commander drained the contents of her glass and slammed it down. “We have to get started,” she said as she put the book back into the desk drawer and began unrolling the scroll
onto the table.

Drawn as if by a child, it was an austere map. No line was straight and each point on the map was indistinguishable from the next. I waited for something to happen to the squiggles on the map,
something like what had occurred with the pictures in the book, but this was just an ordinary map.

“Our cartographer was killed by the unfeelings,” the commander explained. “So we asked his brother to map out the lands between the Ever Forest and The Pure One’s
City.”

“He didn’t do a very good job,” General Devonport finished off.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that ...” I found myself saying. I turned my head sideways trying to make out the random lines.

“I hope you’re kidding,” Devonport said. “We can’t use this map, even if we try.”

“And believe me, we have,” the commander added to a chorus of nervous chuckles. “We need a new map, but until then, this will have to do.”

She pointed at a scribble toward the bottom left corner of the map. We all squinted trying to see where she was pointing.

“This is us,” the commander said. “I think ...”

“But isn’t this the Ever Forest?” Gerrard said, pointing out a mass of scribbles on the other side of the page.

“I thought this was it.” The commander gestured to another group of scratches close to the corner.

The boy shot me an amused look, as my eyes darted from the commander, to Gerrard, Davenport and back again. Davenport merely stared at her feet, her hand rubbing at her forehead. Gerrard’s
bottom lip protruded slightly, while his head cocked to one side.

In any other circumstance, the scene would have been amusing. However, the serious implications that came with the map’s inexact, and largely unhelpful, information prevented me from
finding any humor in the situation.

The commander let out a long audible sigh. “We’ll do this some other time,” she concluded. “For now, let’s celebrate and I’ll see you again tomorrow night. We
can eat while we’re planning.”

She tossed the map back onto her desk, as everyone else filed out of the doors.

I walked where my feet led me and they led me where I walked. Neither followed though both led. My body and mind acted as two separate entities, but neither seemed to be me. I followed the tides
of people around me and they pushed me where I desired to be. I set foot inside those doors and although I felt neither, I was confronted by sights both desolate and heartwarming.

The whole room was lined with temporary cots and beds on which the wounded lay and others milled with the bustling energy of people, both Trigon and human. They were all trying to do their part
and make a difference. Although the windows were all thrown open, the salty scent of blood and sweat lingered in the air. It reminded everyone of how good it felt to be alive.

It didn’t take me long to spot Nalin, who was in the corner, seemingly hiding under a large book. As I came closer, I noticed the pages strewn about him. They were covered with sketches of
lifelike people and animals, some of which I had never seen before. There was what looked like a cross between an armadillo and a lion, and there was yet another strange animal; a flamingo and
crocodile mix. Among them, diffused among the many faces, I saw the likeness of the boy and myself.

“Nalin,” I deliberately called out to the face behind the book. All I heard in response was a low incomprehensible mumble. “Nalin?” I called louder.

“I’m busy training,” he answered.

“Training? In bed?”

“I’m reading up on combat strategies,” he said, still not looking up from the book.

“Is that so?” I replied, peeking behind his book. He wasn’t reading about combat strategies; he was drawing again.

Nalin finally looked up from his book and seemed surprised when he saw me. “I guess you caught me,” he admitted sheepishly, putting the book down. “Better you than someone
else.”

“I just wanted to ask you about the people,” I began.

“What about us?” I had almost forgotten that Nalin was one of them.

“Well each species seems to keep to itself.”

“And you expect them not to?”

“You don’t seem to have a problem with me being a human and I don’t have a problem with you being a Trigon, but that doesn’t seem to be the case with everyone
else.”

“Sometimes I forget that you’re not from here.” Nalin smiled. “It’s always been this way. It’s a tradition as old as time itself and no one even really
remembers the reason for it in the first place.”

“Then why doesn’t everyone just stop this practice?”

“You can’t just stop something you’ve been doing forever. Tradition is like habit. You can’t break it in a day.”

“But no one seems to even try to stop it. We need to band together,” I added.

“Maybe that can be one of the things you can work on.” He grinned.

Speaking with Nalin was always easy, as we talked about whatever came into our minds. I never had to screen my words or think twice when I was with him.

“Oh, what’s this?” I reached over the book he had been hiding behind and produced the drawing he had been working on when I found him.