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prose_alchemistTitle: Night-Riders (Part V: Festival Time)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jordannamorgan
Archive Rights: Please request the author’s consent.
Rating/Warnings: G.
Characters: Ed, Al, and assorted original townsfolk.
Setting: General.
Summary: Another October finds Edward depressed—until the brothers get caught up in a family’s secret.
Disclaimer: They belong to Hiromu Arakawa. I’m just playing with them.
Once the brothers had collected some suitable metals, it didn’t take long to duplicate the frame that supported the Headless Horseman’s lighted pumpkin-head. Ed made considerable adjustments, but even so, the only way to fit it properly above the empty void of Al’s neck was to remove his helmet—something the armored boy had never liked. It was uneasy and disorienting to have his errant head separated from the rest of him, skewing his existing senses. The thought of galloping through town in that disjointed state was a little terrifying, and Al knew he was in for a particularly long and nervous night when they turned in.
He couldn’t deny that he was envious of Ed, who snuggled up to his side and fell immediately into an exhausted slumber.
Fortunately for Al’s restless mind, the Maddocks awoke well before the dawn, and he carefully withdrew himself from Ed’s unconscious sprawl to seek distraction in their company. He made himself useful, helping Jep and Fawn haul crates of food out to the cart, while the injured Japheth was relegated to chopping vegetables for breakfast.
The sun was just rising, and Fay’s golden omelettes were just hitting the plates, when Ed half-staggered foggily into the kitchen. Al wished he could have smirked at Brother’s rumpled appearance: he was obviously paying the full dues now for the previous day’s hard riding.
“You’re walking funny,” Al noted with perverse cheerfulness, and watched as Ed gingerly lowered himself onto an uncushioned wooden chair. “Do you want a pillow for that?”
“Shut up,” Ed grumbled, rubbing the grit from his eyes. “It’s your fault. Your armor’s like sleeping next to a rock.”
Al merely chuckled, taking the excuse for what it was. From the beginning, even before Ed’s lost limbs had been replaced by automail, it wasn’t uncommon for him to crawl over to Al and curl up in his lap after nightmares. Al had gently protested at first, for the sake of Ed’s comfort; but soon he realized the different kind of comfort Ed sought was something far more important. So he too learned to cherish that unfelt closeness, and Ed grew to be perfectly at ease with the hard chill of steel against his skin.
But today Ed was embarrassed by his saddle-soreness—and if he thought to save face by blaming Al, his brother didn’t mind. The Maddocks weren’t going to believe it for a moment, anyway.
“How are you boys’ costumes coming?” Japheth asked.
Ed shrugged, digging into his omelette. “They just need a few final touches. It shouldn’t take more than another half-hour’s work.”
“That’s great. You can finish while Fay and the kids haul the food for the Midnight Feast into town—and when they get back, we’ll all put on our costumes and head for the Festival together.” Japheth frowned suddenly. “Say, we didn’t even think about fixing you up with costumes for today, did we? Everybody dresses up on the last day.”
“Never mind that. I think we’ve put in enough time and effort.” Ed waved a hand dismissively, and turned a wry look upon Jep, who was sitting next to him. “Besides, Jep already thought my regular clothes were a costume!”
“I still think people won’t know the difference,” Jep murmured, blushing darkly, and Ed stuck his tongue out at the boy.
Al laughed softly. “Anyway, for me, it’ll be kinda nice… to go as I am, and not really stand out for once.”
Japheth spread his hands. “Well, of course that’s up to you. And I guess it’s just as well to save up your energy for tonight, after all.” He gave Ed a crooked smile. “Looks like you’re still recovering from yesterday, anyway.”
It was Ed’s turn to blush, dropping his fork noisily on his plate. “Am not! I mean—I just slept wrong, that’s all. I’ll be fine once I get moving.”
The last assertion was one thing Al didn’t doubt. Brother was the most resilient person he had ever known—and even if his aches didn’t work themselves out entirely, he wouldn’t let on about it. When he wasn’t just in the mood to complain, his ability to disregard pain and focus on the moment was a thing of wonder.
“So how exactly is it all supposed to work tonight?” Al asked, partly to change the subject, and partly because that was important information they hadn’t yet discussed.
“Well, I usually come back here for the horses and costumes soon as it’s dark,” Japheth mused, scratching his jaw. “But with my bum leg…”
“I can handle it, dear,” Fay said warmly to her husband, and turned to the Elrics. “I’ll take everything to the place where we set up. An hour after dark, you and the children will have to slip away from the Festival and meet me there—the cemetery on the edge of town.”
In spite of himself, Al flinched. “C-cemetery?”
“Well, it is the best place to hide what we’re up to,” Japheth supplied with a shrug. “It’s on the opposite side of town from our farm. Better for folks to see the Night-Riders coming from that direction than this one—and nobody’s ever around the cemetery during the Festival, so we can get changed and saddle up without being spotted.”
“It makes sense,” Ed agreed with equanimity, and grinned up at Al. “Don’t tell me you’re scared. I thought we’d been through all that.”
“I’m not scared!” Al shot back. “Graveyards are just creepy at night…”
Fawn spoke up. “I didn’t like it either when I was little. But we actually get ready behind the caretaker’s cottage, a little ways away from all the graves. It’s not so bad.”
“Besides,” Japheth added with a solemn smile, “it’s where all my ancestors who made the Night Ride before us are buried. I kinda like to think they’re glad to see us out there every year, carrying on the tradition.”
A part of Al found this idea rather morbid… but in a way, he could imagine how it would be comforting. Apart from their late mother and their absent father, he and Ed had never known any blood relations. Sometimes he wondered what it was like to have the richness of a family history, the feeling of a connection to generations past.
“I’m finished with breakfast,” Jep announced suddenly, pushing his chair back from the table. “Can I put on my costume now?”
His mother frowned at his only half-emptied plate. “You don’t look finished. Besides, you might get your costume torn or dirty if you wear it to unload the food in town.”
“Aww, Mom…”
“Oh, let ’em go ahead and dress up,” Japheth chuckled. “I used to be just as eager for it when I was a kid.”
Fay relented, spreading her hands, and Jep gleefully bolted from the room. Fawn followed him, after a seeking glance at her father was met with a nod of consent. The children were gone for several minutes—and when they returned, both wore costumes quite unlike the sinister darkness of their Night-Rider roles.
Fawn had previously seemed to be something of a tomboy, but now she was transformed completely as a fairy princess, in a jeweled tiara and a glittery pale-pink dress with translucent wings. As for Jep, he was dressed as a pirate, complete with an eyepatch and a wooden sword. Lacking the macabre quality and intricate detail of the Night-Riders, these were instead the quaint, simple guises one might expect of children; doubtless a deliberate part of the cover for their family secret.
“Wow, you both look great!” Al chirped, admiring the costumes as the pair eagerly showed them off.
He couldn’t deny that he was a bit wistful at the sight. It would be nice, for once, to pass off his armor as a whimsical lark, instead of a strangely permanent characteristic… but he would have dearly loved to play dress-up as the children were, in a flesh-and-blood body that could pretend to be anything at all.
Somehow, expressionless steel had never been enough to hide even the slightest shades of emotion from his brother. Hearing a soft tap on his vambrace, he turned to see that Ed’s left hand had come to rest on his arm; and although he couldn’t feel the gentle squeeze of fingers against the steel, he could see it.
“Someday, Al,” Ed whispered, his golden eyes alight with determination. “I promise.”
Fay and the children set out a few minutes later, to take the products of Fay’s cooking spree to the Town Hall. Japheth wolfed down the last of his omelette, and then levered himself from his chair with the aid of his crutch. When he began gathering the dishes from the table, Al hurried to help him—followed a bit more gingerly by Ed, who couldn’t suppress a wince when he stood up too quickly.
“Just set ’em by the sink,” Japheth insisted. “I’ll wash up. All I’ve gotta do then is get my costume on—but if you boys still have some work to do on the Horseman and the Scarecrow, you’d better go finish that.”
The brothers complied, and as they made their way out through the kitchen door opposite the barn, Ed glanced up at Al. “The biggest thing left is the Horseman’s pumpkin head, right?”
“Yeah. Jep said we should pick whatever we need from the pumpkin patch behind the barn.”
“Then that’s our first stop!”
The pumpkin patch was a sprawling quarter-acre of vines, dotted here and there with orange gourds that were as small as an apple or as big as a wagon wheel. Al followed Ed into it, taking care not to step on and break any of the rambling plants.
Ed stopped next to a middling-sized pumpkin near the center of the patch. “Here, bend down a sec.”
Slightly bemused, Al squatted down… and the next thing he knew, Ed had yanked off his helmet and shoved it into his hands.
“Hey! What—?”
Before Al could get another word out, Ed hefted the ungainly pumpkin, letting it drop with a slight thump between Al’s shoulders. “How else are we supposed to pick one if we don’t try it on?”
“I thought you’d just use the frame we’re supposed to attach it to!”
The elder Elric waved an impatient hand. “I’ll adjust the frame to fit the pumpkin. What’s important is to get the proportions right compared to your armor.” He took a step back, to appraise the gourd that was precariously balanced on Al’s nonexistent neck. Then he shook his head and carefully rolled it off, setting it back on the ground. “That one won’t do. Let’s try another.”
For the next fifteen minutes, Al helplessly trailed after Ed with helmet in hands, as his brother examined one pumpkin after another. Horrified by the thought of being seen actually headless, he fidgeted nervously, flinching at every distant crow of a rooster or bark of a dog. He was soon convinced that Ed was dragging out the process just to torment him.
“Brother, this is taking too long! What if somebody sees me like this?”
“Relax! There’s no one anywhere around except Japheth, and the barn is between us and the house.” Ed hoisted what must have been the two dozenth pumpkin—and it was definitely the heaviest. Al yelped as it landed between his shoulders, its unexpected weight nearly unbalancing him.
Ed casually clamped a steel hand on his shoulder spike to steady him, and stared hard at the pumpkin. “No, that’s not it either.”
At that moment, the abrupt cackle of a crow as it flew overhead made Al jump… and down went the pumpkin, shattering on the ground at his feet.
“…You know what?” Ed remarked, rubbing his chin as he stared down at the mess, with a perfect pretense of thoughtfulness. “I think the first one was the best, after all.”
And the first pumpkin it was, but another twenty minutes passed before they went back to collect it.
It took that long for Al to stop chasing Ed—and then only because armor wasn’t very good at climbing trees.
Their brief contretemps resolved, the brothers finally reached the barn with the chosen pumpkin. Edward placed it on a crate in the middle of the straw-covered floor; then he clapped his hands together, transmuted a long serrated blade from his automail arm, and stabbed it into the top of the gourd with alacrity.
Al winced. “Sometimes I think you enjoy that too much.”
Ed ignored him. He was busy cutting a tidy circle around the stub of the stem, angled inward slightly to keep the top from falling into the hollow cavity. Once done, he lifted off the resulting plug of pumpkin-flesh and peered inside… and made a face.
“Okay, you know what? I’m just gonna go over there and finish working on the Scarecrow, while you scoop out the seeds.”
“Why me?” Al spluttered, leaning over to stare into the abyss of stringy pumpkin-muck. “All this was your idea!”
“But it’s your head! Besides, you can’t feel how slimy that stuff is!”
“Neither would you if you used your automail hand!”
That suggestion caused Ed to give his metal fingers a horrified glance. “Ugh—no way! These are delicate moving parts! Do you have any idea how nasty it’d be picking little bits of pumpkin guts out of all these joints?”
The younger Elric sighed, knowing this was one argument he wasn’t going to win. “Fine, you big baby,” he muttered, and pushed Ed aside, to reach down into the pumpkin. Nerveless leather fingers scraped around the inside, coming up with a huge handful of the sticky orange gore, and he violently slopped the stuff down onto the floorboards. “Just because I can’t feel it doesn’t mean it isn’t gross!”
His complaints fell on deaf ears. Edward was on the other side of the room, fussing with his Scarecrow costume and determinedly not watching the pumpkin-gutting.
It was amazing, really, that someone who had the fortitude to draw an alchemic seal with the blood from own his severed leg would be queasy about pumpkin innards. But then, it was just as puzzling that someone who never cried out during automail surgery could be sent into shrieking horrors by the mere sight of a needle. Al was used to this pattern by now: Ed was unmoved by extremes. It was only the little things that got to him.
Once he had emptied the gourd of its unsavory contents, Al made use of the pump outside the barn to wash the stickiness off his gauntlets. He returned to find Ed examining his handiwork.
“You want to carve the face yourself?” Ed queried, turning to him brightly.
Although he was touched that Ed would ask—offering him the fun part as a consolation for the dirty work—Al shook his helmet. The truth was that he didn’t especially care to handle knives or other potential weapons, even for such an innocent purpose. His lack of sensation and easily miscalculated strength were a combination that made him ever-wary of accidents.
“No thanks,” he answered earnestly. “You’re a lot better at slicing stuff up than I am.”
“I hope that’s supposed to be a compliment!” Ed muttered, as he clapped his hands and transmuted a smaller, finer version of his earlier blade.
For a moment Ed turned the pumpkin thoughtfully in his hands, searching for its best side. Having made his judgment, he thrust the blade into it and started to cut—and Al watched in fascination as jagged, menacing features began to unfold. Ed’s carving was crude, but that only added to the eerie savageness of it, with its gaping sharp-toothed mouth and slanted, glaring eyes. Even if the face of Al’s helmet wasn’t really much friendlier, it still disturbed him a bit to imagine that sitting where his head belonged.
“Well, what do you think?” Ed asked at length, as he smoothed out a few remaining rough edges.
“It looks great! It’ll be scary when it’s glowing in the dark.” Al ducked his helmet. “It’s funny, isn’t it? All this time, I’ve worried so much about people being scared of me—but tonight I’ll actually be trying to scare people.”
His brother smiled up at him. “Hey, nobody’s gonna know it’s you. That’s the fun of it!”
With the pumpkin-head finished, Ed attached it to its frame, using alchemy to shape bands of iron that passed through the bottom of the gourd and held it securely. After that, the final adjustments and finishing touches for both costumes took only a few minutes of work.
“I think we did a pretty good job imitating Japheth’s costume,” Ed concluded with satisfaction, as they stood back and appraised the finished guises that lay spread on the barn floor.
“Yeah, and your Scarecrow is scary!” Al exclaimed. “I can’t wait to see you wearing it.”
Edward grinned fiendishly and turned away from their handiwork, giving Al an affectionate thump with his metal knuckles. “Come on. Let’s see what Japheth came up with for his costume!”
So the brothers left the barn, and returned to the farmhouse kitchen… where they found a werewolf calmly sipping coffee at the table.
“What do you think? I’ve been planning this for months.” Japheth grinned through a faceful of greasepaint and spirit-gummed fur, displaying a set of sharply-pointed false teeth. “Of course, a werewolf stumping around on a crutch won’t be too terrifying, but I guess there’s no helping that.”
“Your makeup job still looks awesome!” Ed laughed. “And besides, that crutch will make you stand out. If people notice you’re around through the whole Night Ride, it oughta throw off anybody who’s suspected you of being the Headless Horseman.”
“That’s another reason I appreciate your doing this. When I busted my leg, I thought the mystery would be over, but now people are gonna be left guessing even more. That’s half the fun for everybody, not just us…” At the sound of the front door opening, Japheth smiled and reached for his crutch. “There’s Fay and the kids. Ready to go? You boys deserve a treat, after all the work you’ve done already—and there’s no better treat than the Festival!”
The Harvest Festival of Romney was every bit the experience the Maddocks had promised.
It was not yet ten o’clock in the morning, but the main street of the town looked as if the combined contents of a circus and a haunted house had been spilled into it. There were colorful sights to see at every turn: acrobats and magicians, sideshow performers, stilt-walkers, puppeteers with their mischievous marionettes. Even those who were simply out to enjoy the fun were wearing costumes, ranging from the frightful to the silly. The air rang with laughter and music and the noisy clamor of carnival games, and a vast variety of food was being hawked from booths along the sidewalks.
As the Elric brothers and the Maddock family stood at the end of the street, taking in the madcap scene that sprawled before them, Al neatly summarized it all with one word. “Wow!”
Fay laughed brightly. “Yes—nobody here does the Harvest Festival in a small way.” She was in costume herself now, her flowing black dress and pale face-powder transforming the housewife into a very charming vampire.
“Where do we start?” Ed asked wonderingly, craning his neck to look back and forth among the attractions—as well as sniffing the air like a bloodhound, taking in what Al could only imagine was a jumble of savory food-smells.
Japheth chuckled. “Start anywhere you like!”
The Elrics exchanged a glance with Jep and Fawn… and with a mutual resolve, the four of them plunged into the happy chaos of the Festival.
Afterward, Al would always remember it as one of the very best days of his journey at his brother’s side. It took them hours to make their way down the length of the street, experiencing it all. They gawked at the street performers. They mastered every one of the carnival games—in the process winning several stuffed animals, which they were happy enough to give to Fawn and Jep and other passing children. And as for Ed… well, he ate a positively grotesque amount of food.
Furthermore, Ed had somehow been persuaded to make at least a small concession to the town’s costume traditions: he drew up the hood of his coat, and wore a simple black mask over his eyes. He looked at once both hilariously funny and strangely dashing, and Al didn’t know whether to hug him or burst out laughing.
For Al’s part, he continued to enjoy the admiring way people looked at his armor, supposing it was nothing more than a particularly impressive costume. He wished it could be that way every day, in every town—and at the same time, it amused him to think he would deliberately be doing his best to give the same people a scare that night, when he rode as the Headless Horseman.
There was only one incident in the entire day that really annoyed Al. It came when Ed bought a bag of walnuts from one of the food kiosks… because he happened to find it quite convenient to crack the shells with his automail hand.
Crack—crunch—crunch.
Al winced at the noisy snacking that was taking place beside him. “Brother, do you have to do that?”
“Well, how else am I supposed to open these things?” Crack—crunch—crunch.
“You’re just showing off, and you know it.” Al glanced around at the people who were eyeing Ed curiously. Since the steel of his automail was hidden beneath his glove, all they could see was the admittedly odd feat of a slight teenaged boy shattering walnut shells with one hand. “Do you really want people to mistake us for one of the street acts?”
“Hey, I don’t hear you complaining about the attention you’re getting!”
“That’s different…”
“Oh yeah?” Crack—crunch—crunch. “…How so?”
Al sighed and gave up, ignoring the giggling of Jep and Fawn. Having been given permission to run ahead of their mother and their hobbled father, the Maddock children were sticking close to the Elrics—partly enticed by the prospect of more toys each time the brothers took on another game of skill. Jep had lost his eyepatch somewhere, and Fawn’s gilt-edged wings were a little bent, but the pair had otherwise managed to keep their costumes neat and intact.
The illusion unfolding on a magician’s makeshift stage gave Al a chance for revenge, and he gleefully seized Ed’s arm, pointing. “Brother, look at that!”
Ed looked—just in time to see the magician seemingly passing a long, long needle through the hand of his pretty young assistant.
“Oh geeze…!” Growing pale behind his mask, Ed dropped his bag of walnuts and turned away.
“Come on, Ed, you know it’s just a trick.” Al watched interestedly as the magician withdrew the needle, and the assistant showed the crowd her hand, entirely intact and unpierced. “It’d be easy for us to figure out how he does it.”
“Only if you wanna be the guinea pig!” Ed’s eyebrows rose abruptly, and he smirked at Al. “Come to think of it, that’s an idea. We could make a fortune sticking things through your armor and calling it magic.”
“Uh—I don’t really think that would work…”
“It amazes me that anybody still bothers with sleight of hand, when alchemy can perform real wonders.” Ed glanced at Jep as they continued to walk. “Some hacks do use it for cheap performance art, though. Have you ever seen an alchemist put on an exhibit for the Festival?”
“Sometimes, but not this year.” The boy grinned at Ed. “Not unless you want to give ’em a show!”
The State Alchemist chuckled and shook his head. “Pulling stuff like that is just a waste of legitimate skills… Hey, wait a sec.” With a sudden frown, he began searching his pockets. “Where’d my walnuts go?”
If he could have, Al would have smiled and whistled innocently.
Speaking of sleight of hand…
The day passed in a whirl of tumultuous excitement, and although its tastes and scents and sensations were lost to Al, he didn’t really mind his own lack just this once. He had something even more precious: his brother smiling and laughing like the boy he should have been, the burdens of their lives forgotten for a day. Such a joy left no room for hurt in Al’s soul…
Even if Ed was just a little bit of a brat now and then.
As the sun was setting, Fay Maddock slipped away from the crowd, to fetch the costumes and horses for the Night Ride and take them to the cemetery. Jep, Fawn, and the Elrics waited an hour after that, continuing to enjoy the fun that went on into the night. Electric lights strung over the street ensured that the games and performances remained brightly lit; but even so, it felt as if shadows of a different kind were creeping over Romney. Puppeteers and storytellers began to enact ghost stories instead of fairytales, while many of the costumes that seemed harmless by day took on a more wild and macabre appearance in the half-light. The air was filled with a sense that something exciting and just a little bit terrible was coming.
Japheth finally caught up with his progeny and the young alchemists while Ed was sampling a vendor’s deep-fried chocolate chip cookies. (Al had to admit that Ed’s adventures in food gave him a weird new level of admiration for his brother. The mere thought of some of the things he’d eaten that day was almost enough to make Al’s stomach ache—and that was saying a lot, considering he didn’t even have a stomach.)
“You should get started about now,” the farmer informed them discreetly. “The kids’ll show you boys the way. Good luck!”
Ed nodded. “Thanks, Japheth. Have fun being a spectator for once—and make sure plenty of people see you while the Horseman’s around,” he added. Then he turned to Al and the children, grinning wickedly from behind his mask.
“It’s showtime!”
© 2010 Jordanna Morgan
Chapters: 1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 ::
Author:
jordannamorganArchive Rights: Please request the author’s consent.
Rating/Warnings: G.
Characters: Ed, Al, and assorted original townsfolk.
Setting: General.
Summary: Another October finds Edward depressed—until the brothers get caught up in a family’s secret.
Disclaimer: They belong to Hiromu Arakawa. I’m just playing with them.
Once the brothers had collected some suitable metals, it didn’t take long to duplicate the frame that supported the Headless Horseman’s lighted pumpkin-head. Ed made considerable adjustments, but even so, the only way to fit it properly above the empty void of Al’s neck was to remove his helmet—something the armored boy had never liked. It was uneasy and disorienting to have his errant head separated from the rest of him, skewing his existing senses. The thought of galloping through town in that disjointed state was a little terrifying, and Al knew he was in for a particularly long and nervous night when they turned in.
He couldn’t deny that he was envious of Ed, who snuggled up to his side and fell immediately into an exhausted slumber.
Fortunately for Al’s restless mind, the Maddocks awoke well before the dawn, and he carefully withdrew himself from Ed’s unconscious sprawl to seek distraction in their company. He made himself useful, helping Jep and Fawn haul crates of food out to the cart, while the injured Japheth was relegated to chopping vegetables for breakfast.
The sun was just rising, and Fay’s golden omelettes were just hitting the plates, when Ed half-staggered foggily into the kitchen. Al wished he could have smirked at Brother’s rumpled appearance: he was obviously paying the full dues now for the previous day’s hard riding.
“You’re walking funny,” Al noted with perverse cheerfulness, and watched as Ed gingerly lowered himself onto an uncushioned wooden chair. “Do you want a pillow for that?”
“Shut up,” Ed grumbled, rubbing the grit from his eyes. “It’s your fault. Your armor’s like sleeping next to a rock.”
Al merely chuckled, taking the excuse for what it was. From the beginning, even before Ed’s lost limbs had been replaced by automail, it wasn’t uncommon for him to crawl over to Al and curl up in his lap after nightmares. Al had gently protested at first, for the sake of Ed’s comfort; but soon he realized the different kind of comfort Ed sought was something far more important. So he too learned to cherish that unfelt closeness, and Ed grew to be perfectly at ease with the hard chill of steel against his skin.
But today Ed was embarrassed by his saddle-soreness—and if he thought to save face by blaming Al, his brother didn’t mind. The Maddocks weren’t going to believe it for a moment, anyway.
“How are you boys’ costumes coming?” Japheth asked.
Ed shrugged, digging into his omelette. “They just need a few final touches. It shouldn’t take more than another half-hour’s work.”
“That’s great. You can finish while Fay and the kids haul the food for the Midnight Feast into town—and when they get back, we’ll all put on our costumes and head for the Festival together.” Japheth frowned suddenly. “Say, we didn’t even think about fixing you up with costumes for today, did we? Everybody dresses up on the last day.”
“Never mind that. I think we’ve put in enough time and effort.” Ed waved a hand dismissively, and turned a wry look upon Jep, who was sitting next to him. “Besides, Jep already thought my regular clothes were a costume!”
“I still think people won’t know the difference,” Jep murmured, blushing darkly, and Ed stuck his tongue out at the boy.
Al laughed softly. “Anyway, for me, it’ll be kinda nice… to go as I am, and not really stand out for once.”
Japheth spread his hands. “Well, of course that’s up to you. And I guess it’s just as well to save up your energy for tonight, after all.” He gave Ed a crooked smile. “Looks like you’re still recovering from yesterday, anyway.”
It was Ed’s turn to blush, dropping his fork noisily on his plate. “Am not! I mean—I just slept wrong, that’s all. I’ll be fine once I get moving.”
The last assertion was one thing Al didn’t doubt. Brother was the most resilient person he had ever known—and even if his aches didn’t work themselves out entirely, he wouldn’t let on about it. When he wasn’t just in the mood to complain, his ability to disregard pain and focus on the moment was a thing of wonder.
“So how exactly is it all supposed to work tonight?” Al asked, partly to change the subject, and partly because that was important information they hadn’t yet discussed.
“Well, I usually come back here for the horses and costumes soon as it’s dark,” Japheth mused, scratching his jaw. “But with my bum leg…”
“I can handle it, dear,” Fay said warmly to her husband, and turned to the Elrics. “I’ll take everything to the place where we set up. An hour after dark, you and the children will have to slip away from the Festival and meet me there—the cemetery on the edge of town.”
In spite of himself, Al flinched. “C-cemetery?”
“Well, it is the best place to hide what we’re up to,” Japheth supplied with a shrug. “It’s on the opposite side of town from our farm. Better for folks to see the Night-Riders coming from that direction than this one—and nobody’s ever around the cemetery during the Festival, so we can get changed and saddle up without being spotted.”
“It makes sense,” Ed agreed with equanimity, and grinned up at Al. “Don’t tell me you’re scared. I thought we’d been through all that.”
“I’m not scared!” Al shot back. “Graveyards are just creepy at night…”
Fawn spoke up. “I didn’t like it either when I was little. But we actually get ready behind the caretaker’s cottage, a little ways away from all the graves. It’s not so bad.”
“Besides,” Japheth added with a solemn smile, “it’s where all my ancestors who made the Night Ride before us are buried. I kinda like to think they’re glad to see us out there every year, carrying on the tradition.”
A part of Al found this idea rather morbid… but in a way, he could imagine how it would be comforting. Apart from their late mother and their absent father, he and Ed had never known any blood relations. Sometimes he wondered what it was like to have the richness of a family history, the feeling of a connection to generations past.
“I’m finished with breakfast,” Jep announced suddenly, pushing his chair back from the table. “Can I put on my costume now?”
His mother frowned at his only half-emptied plate. “You don’t look finished. Besides, you might get your costume torn or dirty if you wear it to unload the food in town.”
“Aww, Mom…”
“Oh, let ’em go ahead and dress up,” Japheth chuckled. “I used to be just as eager for it when I was a kid.”
Fay relented, spreading her hands, and Jep gleefully bolted from the room. Fawn followed him, after a seeking glance at her father was met with a nod of consent. The children were gone for several minutes—and when they returned, both wore costumes quite unlike the sinister darkness of their Night-Rider roles.
Fawn had previously seemed to be something of a tomboy, but now she was transformed completely as a fairy princess, in a jeweled tiara and a glittery pale-pink dress with translucent wings. As for Jep, he was dressed as a pirate, complete with an eyepatch and a wooden sword. Lacking the macabre quality and intricate detail of the Night-Riders, these were instead the quaint, simple guises one might expect of children; doubtless a deliberate part of the cover for their family secret.
“Wow, you both look great!” Al chirped, admiring the costumes as the pair eagerly showed them off.
He couldn’t deny that he was a bit wistful at the sight. It would be nice, for once, to pass off his armor as a whimsical lark, instead of a strangely permanent characteristic… but he would have dearly loved to play dress-up as the children were, in a flesh-and-blood body that could pretend to be anything at all.
Somehow, expressionless steel had never been enough to hide even the slightest shades of emotion from his brother. Hearing a soft tap on his vambrace, he turned to see that Ed’s left hand had come to rest on his arm; and although he couldn’t feel the gentle squeeze of fingers against the steel, he could see it.
“Someday, Al,” Ed whispered, his golden eyes alight with determination. “I promise.”
Fay and the children set out a few minutes later, to take the products of Fay’s cooking spree to the Town Hall. Japheth wolfed down the last of his omelette, and then levered himself from his chair with the aid of his crutch. When he began gathering the dishes from the table, Al hurried to help him—followed a bit more gingerly by Ed, who couldn’t suppress a wince when he stood up too quickly.
“Just set ’em by the sink,” Japheth insisted. “I’ll wash up. All I’ve gotta do then is get my costume on—but if you boys still have some work to do on the Horseman and the Scarecrow, you’d better go finish that.”
The brothers complied, and as they made their way out through the kitchen door opposite the barn, Ed glanced up at Al. “The biggest thing left is the Horseman’s pumpkin head, right?”
“Yeah. Jep said we should pick whatever we need from the pumpkin patch behind the barn.”
“Then that’s our first stop!”
The pumpkin patch was a sprawling quarter-acre of vines, dotted here and there with orange gourds that were as small as an apple or as big as a wagon wheel. Al followed Ed into it, taking care not to step on and break any of the rambling plants.
Ed stopped next to a middling-sized pumpkin near the center of the patch. “Here, bend down a sec.”
Slightly bemused, Al squatted down… and the next thing he knew, Ed had yanked off his helmet and shoved it into his hands.
“Hey! What—?”
Before Al could get another word out, Ed hefted the ungainly pumpkin, letting it drop with a slight thump between Al’s shoulders. “How else are we supposed to pick one if we don’t try it on?”
“I thought you’d just use the frame we’re supposed to attach it to!”
The elder Elric waved an impatient hand. “I’ll adjust the frame to fit the pumpkin. What’s important is to get the proportions right compared to your armor.” He took a step back, to appraise the gourd that was precariously balanced on Al’s nonexistent neck. Then he shook his head and carefully rolled it off, setting it back on the ground. “That one won’t do. Let’s try another.”
For the next fifteen minutes, Al helplessly trailed after Ed with helmet in hands, as his brother examined one pumpkin after another. Horrified by the thought of being seen actually headless, he fidgeted nervously, flinching at every distant crow of a rooster or bark of a dog. He was soon convinced that Ed was dragging out the process just to torment him.
“Brother, this is taking too long! What if somebody sees me like this?”
“Relax! There’s no one anywhere around except Japheth, and the barn is between us and the house.” Ed hoisted what must have been the two dozenth pumpkin—and it was definitely the heaviest. Al yelped as it landed between his shoulders, its unexpected weight nearly unbalancing him.
Ed casually clamped a steel hand on his shoulder spike to steady him, and stared hard at the pumpkin. “No, that’s not it either.”
At that moment, the abrupt cackle of a crow as it flew overhead made Al jump… and down went the pumpkin, shattering on the ground at his feet.
“…You know what?” Ed remarked, rubbing his chin as he stared down at the mess, with a perfect pretense of thoughtfulness. “I think the first one was the best, after all.”
And the first pumpkin it was, but another twenty minutes passed before they went back to collect it.
It took that long for Al to stop chasing Ed—and then only because armor wasn’t very good at climbing trees.
Their brief contretemps resolved, the brothers finally reached the barn with the chosen pumpkin. Edward placed it on a crate in the middle of the straw-covered floor; then he clapped his hands together, transmuted a long serrated blade from his automail arm, and stabbed it into the top of the gourd with alacrity.
Al winced. “Sometimes I think you enjoy that too much.”
Ed ignored him. He was busy cutting a tidy circle around the stub of the stem, angled inward slightly to keep the top from falling into the hollow cavity. Once done, he lifted off the resulting plug of pumpkin-flesh and peered inside… and made a face.
“Okay, you know what? I’m just gonna go over there and finish working on the Scarecrow, while you scoop out the seeds.”
“Why me?” Al spluttered, leaning over to stare into the abyss of stringy pumpkin-muck. “All this was your idea!”
“But it’s your head! Besides, you can’t feel how slimy that stuff is!”
“Neither would you if you used your automail hand!”
That suggestion caused Ed to give his metal fingers a horrified glance. “Ugh—no way! These are delicate moving parts! Do you have any idea how nasty it’d be picking little bits of pumpkin guts out of all these joints?”
The younger Elric sighed, knowing this was one argument he wasn’t going to win. “Fine, you big baby,” he muttered, and pushed Ed aside, to reach down into the pumpkin. Nerveless leather fingers scraped around the inside, coming up with a huge handful of the sticky orange gore, and he violently slopped the stuff down onto the floorboards. “Just because I can’t feel it doesn’t mean it isn’t gross!”
His complaints fell on deaf ears. Edward was on the other side of the room, fussing with his Scarecrow costume and determinedly not watching the pumpkin-gutting.
It was amazing, really, that someone who had the fortitude to draw an alchemic seal with the blood from own his severed leg would be queasy about pumpkin innards. But then, it was just as puzzling that someone who never cried out during automail surgery could be sent into shrieking horrors by the mere sight of a needle. Al was used to this pattern by now: Ed was unmoved by extremes. It was only the little things that got to him.
Once he had emptied the gourd of its unsavory contents, Al made use of the pump outside the barn to wash the stickiness off his gauntlets. He returned to find Ed examining his handiwork.
“You want to carve the face yourself?” Ed queried, turning to him brightly.
Although he was touched that Ed would ask—offering him the fun part as a consolation for the dirty work—Al shook his helmet. The truth was that he didn’t especially care to handle knives or other potential weapons, even for such an innocent purpose. His lack of sensation and easily miscalculated strength were a combination that made him ever-wary of accidents.
“No thanks,” he answered earnestly. “You’re a lot better at slicing stuff up than I am.”
“I hope that’s supposed to be a compliment!” Ed muttered, as he clapped his hands and transmuted a smaller, finer version of his earlier blade.
For a moment Ed turned the pumpkin thoughtfully in his hands, searching for its best side. Having made his judgment, he thrust the blade into it and started to cut—and Al watched in fascination as jagged, menacing features began to unfold. Ed’s carving was crude, but that only added to the eerie savageness of it, with its gaping sharp-toothed mouth and slanted, glaring eyes. Even if the face of Al’s helmet wasn’t really much friendlier, it still disturbed him a bit to imagine that sitting where his head belonged.
“Well, what do you think?” Ed asked at length, as he smoothed out a few remaining rough edges.
“It looks great! It’ll be scary when it’s glowing in the dark.” Al ducked his helmet. “It’s funny, isn’t it? All this time, I’ve worried so much about people being scared of me—but tonight I’ll actually be trying to scare people.”
His brother smiled up at him. “Hey, nobody’s gonna know it’s you. That’s the fun of it!”
With the pumpkin-head finished, Ed attached it to its frame, using alchemy to shape bands of iron that passed through the bottom of the gourd and held it securely. After that, the final adjustments and finishing touches for both costumes took only a few minutes of work.
“I think we did a pretty good job imitating Japheth’s costume,” Ed concluded with satisfaction, as they stood back and appraised the finished guises that lay spread on the barn floor.
“Yeah, and your Scarecrow is scary!” Al exclaimed. “I can’t wait to see you wearing it.”
Edward grinned fiendishly and turned away from their handiwork, giving Al an affectionate thump with his metal knuckles. “Come on. Let’s see what Japheth came up with for his costume!”
So the brothers left the barn, and returned to the farmhouse kitchen… where they found a werewolf calmly sipping coffee at the table.
“What do you think? I’ve been planning this for months.” Japheth grinned through a faceful of greasepaint and spirit-gummed fur, displaying a set of sharply-pointed false teeth. “Of course, a werewolf stumping around on a crutch won’t be too terrifying, but I guess there’s no helping that.”
“Your makeup job still looks awesome!” Ed laughed. “And besides, that crutch will make you stand out. If people notice you’re around through the whole Night Ride, it oughta throw off anybody who’s suspected you of being the Headless Horseman.”
“That’s another reason I appreciate your doing this. When I busted my leg, I thought the mystery would be over, but now people are gonna be left guessing even more. That’s half the fun for everybody, not just us…” At the sound of the front door opening, Japheth smiled and reached for his crutch. “There’s Fay and the kids. Ready to go? You boys deserve a treat, after all the work you’ve done already—and there’s no better treat than the Festival!”
The Harvest Festival of Romney was every bit the experience the Maddocks had promised.
It was not yet ten o’clock in the morning, but the main street of the town looked as if the combined contents of a circus and a haunted house had been spilled into it. There were colorful sights to see at every turn: acrobats and magicians, sideshow performers, stilt-walkers, puppeteers with their mischievous marionettes. Even those who were simply out to enjoy the fun were wearing costumes, ranging from the frightful to the silly. The air rang with laughter and music and the noisy clamor of carnival games, and a vast variety of food was being hawked from booths along the sidewalks.
As the Elric brothers and the Maddock family stood at the end of the street, taking in the madcap scene that sprawled before them, Al neatly summarized it all with one word. “Wow!”
Fay laughed brightly. “Yes—nobody here does the Harvest Festival in a small way.” She was in costume herself now, her flowing black dress and pale face-powder transforming the housewife into a very charming vampire.
“Where do we start?” Ed asked wonderingly, craning his neck to look back and forth among the attractions—as well as sniffing the air like a bloodhound, taking in what Al could only imagine was a jumble of savory food-smells.
Japheth chuckled. “Start anywhere you like!”
The Elrics exchanged a glance with Jep and Fawn… and with a mutual resolve, the four of them plunged into the happy chaos of the Festival.
Afterward, Al would always remember it as one of the very best days of his journey at his brother’s side. It took them hours to make their way down the length of the street, experiencing it all. They gawked at the street performers. They mastered every one of the carnival games—in the process winning several stuffed animals, which they were happy enough to give to Fawn and Jep and other passing children. And as for Ed… well, he ate a positively grotesque amount of food.
Furthermore, Ed had somehow been persuaded to make at least a small concession to the town’s costume traditions: he drew up the hood of his coat, and wore a simple black mask over his eyes. He looked at once both hilariously funny and strangely dashing, and Al didn’t know whether to hug him or burst out laughing.
For Al’s part, he continued to enjoy the admiring way people looked at his armor, supposing it was nothing more than a particularly impressive costume. He wished it could be that way every day, in every town—and at the same time, it amused him to think he would deliberately be doing his best to give the same people a scare that night, when he rode as the Headless Horseman.
There was only one incident in the entire day that really annoyed Al. It came when Ed bought a bag of walnuts from one of the food kiosks… because he happened to find it quite convenient to crack the shells with his automail hand.
Crack—crunch—crunch.
Al winced at the noisy snacking that was taking place beside him. “Brother, do you have to do that?”
“Well, how else am I supposed to open these things?” Crack—crunch—crunch.
“You’re just showing off, and you know it.” Al glanced around at the people who were eyeing Ed curiously. Since the steel of his automail was hidden beneath his glove, all they could see was the admittedly odd feat of a slight teenaged boy shattering walnut shells with one hand. “Do you really want people to mistake us for one of the street acts?”
“Hey, I don’t hear you complaining about the attention you’re getting!”
“That’s different…”
“Oh yeah?” Crack—crunch—crunch. “…How so?”
Al sighed and gave up, ignoring the giggling of Jep and Fawn. Having been given permission to run ahead of their mother and their hobbled father, the Maddock children were sticking close to the Elrics—partly enticed by the prospect of more toys each time the brothers took on another game of skill. Jep had lost his eyepatch somewhere, and Fawn’s gilt-edged wings were a little bent, but the pair had otherwise managed to keep their costumes neat and intact.
The illusion unfolding on a magician’s makeshift stage gave Al a chance for revenge, and he gleefully seized Ed’s arm, pointing. “Brother, look at that!”
Ed looked—just in time to see the magician seemingly passing a long, long needle through the hand of his pretty young assistant.
“Oh geeze…!” Growing pale behind his mask, Ed dropped his bag of walnuts and turned away.
“Come on, Ed, you know it’s just a trick.” Al watched interestedly as the magician withdrew the needle, and the assistant showed the crowd her hand, entirely intact and unpierced. “It’d be easy for us to figure out how he does it.”
“Only if you wanna be the guinea pig!” Ed’s eyebrows rose abruptly, and he smirked at Al. “Come to think of it, that’s an idea. We could make a fortune sticking things through your armor and calling it magic.”
“Uh—I don’t really think that would work…”
“It amazes me that anybody still bothers with sleight of hand, when alchemy can perform real wonders.” Ed glanced at Jep as they continued to walk. “Some hacks do use it for cheap performance art, though. Have you ever seen an alchemist put on an exhibit for the Festival?”
“Sometimes, but not this year.” The boy grinned at Ed. “Not unless you want to give ’em a show!”
The State Alchemist chuckled and shook his head. “Pulling stuff like that is just a waste of legitimate skills… Hey, wait a sec.” With a sudden frown, he began searching his pockets. “Where’d my walnuts go?”
If he could have, Al would have smiled and whistled innocently.
Speaking of sleight of hand…
The day passed in a whirl of tumultuous excitement, and although its tastes and scents and sensations were lost to Al, he didn’t really mind his own lack just this once. He had something even more precious: his brother smiling and laughing like the boy he should have been, the burdens of their lives forgotten for a day. Such a joy left no room for hurt in Al’s soul…
Even if Ed was just a little bit of a brat now and then.
As the sun was setting, Fay Maddock slipped away from the crowd, to fetch the costumes and horses for the Night Ride and take them to the cemetery. Jep, Fawn, and the Elrics waited an hour after that, continuing to enjoy the fun that went on into the night. Electric lights strung over the street ensured that the games and performances remained brightly lit; but even so, it felt as if shadows of a different kind were creeping over Romney. Puppeteers and storytellers began to enact ghost stories instead of fairytales, while many of the costumes that seemed harmless by day took on a more wild and macabre appearance in the half-light. The air was filled with a sense that something exciting and just a little bit terrible was coming.
Japheth finally caught up with his progeny and the young alchemists while Ed was sampling a vendor’s deep-fried chocolate chip cookies. (Al had to admit that Ed’s adventures in food gave him a weird new level of admiration for his brother. The mere thought of some of the things he’d eaten that day was almost enough to make Al’s stomach ache—and that was saying a lot, considering he didn’t even have a stomach.)
“You should get started about now,” the farmer informed them discreetly. “The kids’ll show you boys the way. Good luck!”
Ed nodded. “Thanks, Japheth. Have fun being a spectator for once—and make sure plenty of people see you while the Horseman’s around,” he added. Then he turned to Al and the children, grinning wickedly from behind his mask.
“It’s showtime!”
© 2010 Jordanna Morgan
Chapters: 1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 ::