Well, I'll Have to Call You Something

The child’s name was Mateo. He loved butterflies. Or, at least, that’s what he’d told Esther. She knew he’d never seen one. He was too young. Of course, she wasn’t about to tell him to change. Butterflies had been lovely, when they had been alive.

They walked together down the old road, stepping in time to that song no one knew.

Esther was aware of the dangers of the road. And yet, she was unaware of the danger she would soon face.

Mateo didn’t talk much. He was quiet. Observant. Esther wasn’t sure whether he was like that before the man with the gun, or if it came as a result of that. Either way, it was probably for the best. Talking felt wrong on the old road. In the silence of a dead world. That was why people had stopped singing.

Esther stopped walking. Something was wrong. She turned to where Mateo walked beside her, but he was gone. Something hit her in the back of her head, and the world went dark.

*****

Esther opened her eyes, finding that her hands were tied to the tree behind her back. There was nothing in sight except for the dead forest.

A voice spoke, “What is your business here?”

Esther replied, “I seek the old temple.”

A shadow descended from the trees, standing over her.

“Is that why you have the child? To sacrifice him?”

Her eyes widened, “No. Never. I would ne–”

A knife thudded into the tree behind her. She watched as it quivered.

The shadow knelt before her, and she could see that he was a man of about her age, perhaps a little younger. His orange horns were speckled in white, and his eyes were pitch black, with no whites.

“Funnily enough, I don’t believe you.”

“Why not?”

A bitter laugh escaped the man’s mouth, “I’ve seen your kind before. You claim to be kind. Follow a god called mercy. Then, you call people like me evil. Rip out our hearts and lay them on some altar. I won’t let you do that. Not to the kid.”

“You mean you have Mateo? Is he alright?” asked Esther.

“You won’t fool me with that fake kindness. You don’t care for him.”

Anger lit inside her heart. She didn’t snuff it out.

“Why are you so convinced of that?”

The man narrowed his eyes, “Because there’s no one left who cares for anyone. Especially not some marked child.”

Tears came to Esther’s eyes, “Why not? Why am I not allowed to care for him?”

The man seemed to hesitate, for a moment, then his expression hardened, “I don’t know what your game is, but I won’t fall for it.”

The sky darkened. The darkness came to pool around the man. From the darkness, Mateo appeared.

Relief filled Esther’s mind, “Mateo!”

Mateo turned towards her. Terrified. He took a step.

The man drew another knife, “Stop.”

Esther’s blood ran chill.

“No,” she whispered.

“The thing is, you can’t sacrifice blood to Eleo if it has already been sacrificed to The Lord of Shadows.”

“No. Please. Please don’t hurt him.”

Her words came between heavy sobs.

The man ignored her, instead addressing Mateo, “Don’t worry, kid. You’ll survive this. I did, after all.”

“Please.”

“I know, it’s scary,” the man continued, “But you’re not alone. I’ll be right here with you. Now, could you give me your hand?”

Mateo complied.

The man began to chant. The shadows started to creep up Mateo’s legs. The man raised the knife.

“No!”

This time, Esther screamed. With all the anger and sadness and fear and love in her heart she screamed. And the trees heard her. For a second, every tree moved about an inch towards the man, then, they stopped, unable to move further. He paused, pulling the knife away from Mateo.

He met her eyes, “W-why aren’t you marked?”

“Please,” Esther whispered.

The man looked from her, to Mateo, to the knife in his hand. He sunk to his knees, trembling.

The man dropped the knife, burying his head in his hands. He didn’t speak.

After a moment, he stood again, still shaking. He walked towards Esther, holding the knife. She didn’t flinch. He knelt beside her, and cut the rope tying her hands.

He set down the knife, and stepped away from her, hands raised, “I…”

The man trailed off, looking to the ground.

Esther rushed to Mateo, and pulled him into an embrace. She cried into Mateo’s hair. He cried into her arms.

“Are you hurt?” she asked him.

He shook his head.

Esther held him at arms length, “I love you, okay?”

Mateo nodded, “Okay.”

She pulled him back into her arms.

It was silent, for a moment.

Then, the man spoke, “I-I’m sorry. I d-don’t kn-know what else t–to say.”

He was sobbing now.

Esther turned to him, picking Mateo up, “I don’t know either.”

She thought for a moment, “Perhaps your next words could be for Eleo.”

The man shook his head, “He would not hear me. I am too far gone.”

“What is your name? I could speak on your behalf.”

For a moment, a look almost like hope lit in the eyes of the man.

It was instantly replaced by pain. The man gasped as he fell to the ground. He was still.

Esther rushed to his side, setting Mateo down, she checked to see if he was breathing. He was.

For a moment, Esther felt relief.

Then, a scream pierced the air.

And another. And another. In these screams there was fear, and pain which Esther could never begin to describe. They were almost inhuman, and yet, paralyzingly human in their pain. The screams came from the man. He was still unconscious.

She knelt by the man’s side, grabbing his hand.

Mateo sat next to her, leaning against her.

Esther prayed.

It took three hours for the man to fall silent. He was shaking. Even in his sleep he was shaking, and it terrified Esther.

She would have made them shelter, but she couldn’t find her staff anywhere, and wasn’t willing to leave an unconscious man and a child, both marked, alone in the dead forest. So Esther just sat there. Holding the man’s hand. Running her fingers through Mateo’s curly hair. And she prayed.

Soon, the screaming started again. It burned in Esther’s ears. The man was bleeding now. She didn’t know where, or why. She had no way to help. So, she prayed. She pleaded with Eleo for mercy.

It took longer for the second round of screams to stop. For his face to change from pure, unbridled agony to an expression closer to relaxation. Still, he was shaking. And his breathing was shallow. And Esther prayed.

Mateo whispered something that Esther didn’t quite understand.

She turned to him, “What did you say, love?”

“I-is he going to be alright?”

“If Eleo allows.”

“W-who is Eleo?”

Esther blinked, surprised, “You don’t know?”

Mateo shook his head.

Esther cleared her throat, “Eleo made everything. He made the light, and the trees, and the water, and the birds, and the butterflies. He also made people.”

“Now, Eleo is an old word for mercy. We aren’t meant to speak His true name. Names have too much power. So we call Him mercy.”

“So He created everything, and He cares about everything. Every little detail. Every person. Every butterfly. Every grain of sand. Every cloud. Everything.”

Mateo’s eyes widened, “Everything?”

Esther nodded, “Everything.”

“Even me?”

“Especially you.”

He pointed at the man on the ground, “Even him?”

Esther’s expression turned somber, “Especially him.”

“If he cares, why does he let him be hurt?”

Esther bit her lip, “I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

They sat in silence, for a while.

Then, the man’s eyes opened. He looked up at Esther.

Drawing in a shaky breath, he tried to speak, “Y–y–y–you s-st–”

“Shh,” Esther said, “It’s alright.”

The man closed his eyes again, but he held her hand tighter. Esther didn’t let go.

She sent Eleo a prayer of gratitude.

The man was still shaking, but he wasn’t screaming. He was still unsteady, but he wasn’t bleeding. His eyes were closed now, but moments before, they had opened. Somehow, deep in her heart, she knew that he would be okay.

When he spoke again, his voice trembled, “W–why d–did you st–stay?”

“Why would I leave?”

“Be–because I–I–I tried to–tried to h-hurt you…”

“You needed me. So I stayed.”

He held her gaze, “I-I d-don’t des-deserve that.”

She shook her head, “It doesn’t matter.”

He looked away, “I-I de-deserve to h-hurt and to–to d-die and–”

He pulled away from her, and, clasping his hand to his mouth, vomited. He lay there for a minute, retching.

“Hey, look at me.”

He did.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“B-but—”

“It doesn’t.”

Esther took a deep breath, “Look, you can move forward.”

“H–how?”

“Eleo will give you the strength.”

“W-why w-would he h-help me?”

“Because He cares about you.”

The man shook his head, “W-why w-would h-he?

Esther looked him straight in his pitch black eyes, “What is your name?”

The man froze, “I-I c–can’t tell y-you that.”

“It’s alright.”

“I can’t.” he repeated, “I’m n–not allowed to–to.”

“It’s alright.”

The man relaxed slightly, “Th-thank y-you.”

Esther smiled tentatively, “You’re welcome.”

She cleared her throat, “Well, I’ll have to call you something.”

“Y–yeah?”

She nodded, “How about Ipo?”

“O-okay.”

Esther stood, brushing off her dark grey pants, “Do you happen to have my staff?”

He nodded, “I-it’s behi-hind that tree over th-there.”

She found her way to the tree, and, subsequently her staff. Mateo followed her.

After a moment, so did Ipo, and they made the way to the old road. Together, they walked to the rhythm of a song long forgotten.