I stared deep into the guard’s eye slits and again felt at peace. It cut such a bleak, antique figure, the last of its kind, but the upright dignity in which it held itself – the utter calm – brought unbidden tears to my eyes. I wished for nothing more than to be its father, a keeper of a benevolent invention. “I...I am not sure. Just, it is on its own now.” I shook my head. “Nothing should have that.”
I expected a derisive answer but Tetrax remained silent. The corn man, however, blinked and buzzed – just once, but long, low and comforting. And from a jagged hole on its left shoulder, a group of small black beetles suddenly emerged. They wandered in a loose line, unhurried and waving tiny feelers back and forth. The corn man lowered its head and watched them, pulsing intermittently as they danced across its neck and finally came to a stop on the opposite shoulder. There, the beetles stayed, backs arched and mandibles clacking in excitement.
“Hah.” I jumped and turned to Tetrax. The thief smirked at the corn man but some of the steel bled from his gaze. “The guard has helpers of its own.” He turned away. “Come, boy. The corn man isn’t alone.”
I stared a moment longer; emotions swirled inside me – a mix of pity, sadness and determination. The corn man sensed me watching and inclined its head, but I hurriedly turned away.
I could not trust myself not to cry.
Published on October 11, 2016 11:25