Corinthian Roses

Chapter Nine: On The Topic Of Maxwell And William

I wake up to chirping birds and the soft sounds of a breezy day. The Constant forces you to learn routines quickly. I feed myself, I look to see if the wood box needs to be replenished, I greet Wilson.

"Willamette, I have an idea for an invention. Summer is soon going to be upon us, and last year I barely made it through. It gets so hot and dry that the plants crumple up and start fires. I lost a whole base to a forest fire. So..."

He shows me a blueprint. It's a large cylinder with a catapult of sorts atop it.

"I call it the Ice-Flingomatic. It can save plants and put out fires, and it's fueled by flame!"

"That's ingenious, Wilson Percival. What do we need to make it?"

He shakes his head. "That's the problem. We're going to have to take down a Clockwork Knight. They're a bit more advanced in fighting technique than spiders and Tallbirds. They kite away too."

"That's where these come in. Not just kiddie toys anymore," he hands me a boomerang. "They're easy to throw, but the catch is, well, catching them. If you don't, they hurt. A lot."

I pick it up. It's very light. "Can I try once?"

"Likely a good idea. Be careful, though."

I face in the direction of the empty field, rear my arm backward and flick my elbow out and let go of the boomerang when my arm forms a ninety-degree angle. It flings out twenty feet and curves back slowly. I study it's path and clasp it in my hands as it nears me.

"Willamette, you're a natural. I can't tell you how many tries it took me to get the catching part down."

"To be fair, I threw discus in school."

He nods, "I hate sports."

"I know you do. Are we ready to go, then?"

He nods and we run out the front gate, elated for more adventure. Wilson studies his map. There is a statue and some odd stone trees scrawled on one part of it.

"Is that where we're going? What's up with the statue?"

"That is one of Maxwell's damned shrines. He's sprinkled egotistic little tributes to himself everywhere. He's obsessed with chess, so he has a bunch of rook, knight, and bishop minions."

"My brother used to play chess, too. He was phenomenal. I would always lose."

He nods. "I wish I had met your brother. Did he look much like you?"

"Oh, heavens no. In fact, we were polar opposites. No one believed we were twins. Our physical attributes can be summed as yin and yang."

He contemplates silently. I see him swallow, almost as if nervously. He shakes himself off quickly and walks forward more brusquely.

...

"It's right up ahead," Wilson informs me. I see the top of the head of the very tall statue. It comes into view more and more as I near it. The facial features become clear, and I freeze to my very spot, eyes wide.

That is a statue of William. That is William!

"There's that damned Maxwell statue. I ought to take a pickaxe to it," Wilson doesn't notice that I've halted. He turns around. "Is something the matter?"

"I..." I can't get myself to talk. My mind is swimming. I can't breathe. Why is this a statue of William? It's not Maxwell. Are my eyes deceiving me?

"Willamette? You're pale as a ghost. Do you want me to do this fight myself? Are you scared?"

I fall to my knees in petrification. I can't sort through any of my thoughts. There are a million different reasons this could be.

Maybe, Maxwell the Demon could be tricking me with a mirage, just to mess with me. Maybe Maxwell took William here, he didn't die. And I don't wish to think of the third, least reasonable assumption. William Carter is Maxwell the Demon.

"Wilson..." I whisper. He rushes to my side and picks me up from my knees. "Wilson," I whisper again. I start crying softly. I can't help myself.

Wilson slides his arms around me and hugs me tight. He talks quietly, "You're going to have to tell me what's wrong."

"That- that's what Maxwell looks like?"

"Yes, that's Maxwell. Does he bother you?"

"That's William."

I hear him gasp quietly. "Surely that can't be?"

"Unless my eyes deceive me. But I believe they don't, alas. Wilson, what is this supposed to mean?"

He just hugs me tighter and shrugs. "Are you going to be OK? Can we get this sorted later?" His voice is so low and reassuring. His body against mine feels warm, and it placates me.

"Let's get this Clockwork," I say.

It is asleep on the ground next to the statue. It's a dusty bronze color, with the head of a horse and an accordion neck. It has no arms, only two hooved feet. I feel an imperturbable anger towards it; it is my brother's, if he really is Maxwell. I grasp my boomerang tightly and scowl at the sleeping beast.

I bend my shoulder back and release the boomerang in near perfect form. It gyrates toward the knight and gashes into the metal of it. It hops up onto its feet and bounces toward me. I back up further and take my boomerang as it comes to me. I quickly throw it again, as hard as I can. Wilson, too, is throwing his boomerang at it and it tries to approach us to retaliate. The gashes on its body multiply and deepen as we beat the ever-living tar out of it.

It lets out a final, tinny groan and falls to the floor. It corrodes away and leaves two small piles of gears in the grass. Wilson walks forward to pick them up.

"You made that a quick fight. Great work, Willamette. Now to get home and sort through our other business- I can't believe that's William."

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"I do, Willamette. I just wish I didn't have to. That would mean that your brother turned into something brand new, something other-worldly. His mind is completely different from any of the stories you told me of. Those made him seem like a meek, easy-going, happy gentleman. Now, he is a foreboding entity with a lust for power and torturing."

"Oh, how I detest this circumstance. Why don't we go home? I wish never to see this statue again."

...

We sit at the fire in grim silence for a long sum of time. Wilson doesn't know how to help me. I feel like falling to tattered shreds. I was so close to being happy. I had Wilson and the gardens and a whole new world to explore, but now this happens.

"Wilson, I can't do this."

He looks up at me. "Yes, you can. You've been through so much before. You can do it this time, too. The difference is that I'm here. I'm here for you. I always will be. Willamette, I care for you more than anything or anyone. If given a choice, I would pick you over science. And you know how much science is to me. It's my very being. But so are you, in a way."

"I don't even know how to react to how strange it is, though! My brother stole me and you away into this world? Why!?"

"Calm down, Willamette. Please." He scoots over to me and takes my hands in his. His pretty brown eyes look into mine and he smiles. I can't help but smile back.

"You and I need to take this one day at a time. When I was alone in this world, that's what I always had to remind myself. One more day, just one more. If I didn't, I would've given up and died. I thought of you sometimes and that would propel me to try harder. I hoped I might get out of this world and see you again."

"I don't know what to say. It's become quite apparent that we both missed each other dearly. It's become quite apparent that we mean much more to each other than is conventional."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that we'd both die for each other in a second. But then the other would fall apart. I guess we'd better make sure we both stay alive."

"We will. The Constant is a stalwart force, but we are tenfold more so. We'll get your brother back no matter what. We'll get William back, not Maxwell."

"Yes, we will. Thank you."