Sons (Book 2) (55 page)

“Except that those were real swords they were swinging at him,” Ethan called from behind us.

“There is that, yes,” I agreed.  “I know this makes me seem like a colossal asshole and I regret that, but I have limited time here today.  If everything works as planned you’ll all be going back by Friday morning at the latest.  At best, this evening and we’ll be delivering the food stocks to shelters around the US.”

The gym was already packed when we walked in, heading for the center sparring rings.  Jimmy was amicably insisting that a quartet of bare-chested and sweating men move aside for my demonstration and that no, he couldn’t show them any tricks right then.  They left the mats hurriedly when they saw us coming.

When we got to the center, I realized that not everyone could see what was going on.  So I dropped and raised the floor slowly in different levels, creating stadium seating.  It turned out to be a fairly simple matter of moving twenty-four slabs of granite.  Each weighed a few tons, so I guess “simple matter” is a relative phrase.  It came as a surprise to the people standing there, but it was all height changes so it wasn’t too shocking.  In the end, the ring was eight feet lower and the last row was twelve feet higher.

Glancing over, I said, “Don’t worry, Major Byrnes, I won’t drop you.”  Using the Stone, I created a platform underneath Byrnes, Alsooth, and me then lifted the three of us into the air, suspending us near the ceiling.  That’s when I saw Kieran and Peter standing on the top tier watching us.  Beside them were the FBI agents, with Richard, Steve, and David on the other side.  When I glanced back at Byrnes, he was white-faced and ramrod stiff.  Alsooth took pity on him, stepping around behind me and murmuring soothing words while patting his leg.  It seemed to help him as I stepped forward raised my voice loud enough to fill the room without yelling and started my speech.

“Good morning, all!  Thank you for coming to this demonstration.  I know it will be educational but I also hope that it will helpful in bringing some understanding to our contradictory positions.  Without going through each person’s individual history, my brothers’ and I realize that each of you has reason to hate those of us who use magic.  Either personally or perhaps through family members, these reactions come from violent and torturous events.  Much like a rape victim can fear and hate men, it is an understandable bias in many respects.  But ultimately it is an unfair one.

“Just as most men are not rapists, most people who know and use magic aren’t inherently evil and violent.  We’re doctors, lawyers, bakers, store clerks, drifters, law enforcement officers.”  I used the FBI as examples, pointing them out along the top tier.  “The sad truth is that your pogrom against us is doomed to fail simply because you can’t possibly
find
all of us.  An even sadder truth is what awaits you if you manage to get close, because we aren’t alone in the universe.”  Here, I used Alsooth as the example.

“So far, you’ve seen four species of Faery that I know of,” I continued.  “Pixies and fairies, sprites and brownies, all but the pixie are refugees from a dying realm.  There are more, far more dangerous and powerful beings than they in the Faery realms, the elves, for instance.  Most of the Faery could not care less about us.  I was the first man most of my Fae had seen.  And my Fae are helpful, peaceful, and nonviolent.  In many ways they are just like us, wanting nothing more than to exist and raise their families in peace.”

I paused again for a moment, hoping to let the idea sink in some before I changed directions again.  “But I don’t expect to change your minds in a day and it’s not why we’re here.  The damage done to you and yours, the
hurt
, runs too deep, the scars too old, for a few words to heal.  I merely want to challenge some of your preconceived beliefs, to show you that everything is not always as it seems.”

If I didn’t start towards a conclusion soon, I was gonna lose them.  Sinking the platform back to the mats slowly, I continued, “That’s why we’re here today, to show you that not everything is obvious.  Most of you saw our sparring match last night and most of you predicted that the First would be the victor because he had already exhibited tremendous speed and dexterity with his staff.  He is also bigger and more muscular than I.  Make no mistake, he did well, but he was horribly mismatched.  We’re here to see another mismatch.

“This is a onetime occasion,” I said emphatically.  “There will be no further challenges of this type by either side.  Unlike yesterday, this will not be a striking contest but one of containment.  Each combatant will begin in opposite corners unarmed, with only a five-foot coil of rope in the center of the ring.  The objective is to bind your opponent’s hands and feet with the rope using natural talents in non-lethal methods, preferably without hurting him at all.  Major, Alsooth, would you select a volunteer each, please?”

“Torec, Lord,” Alsooth said almost immediately.  The statement was still registering in the minds of the men around me, and shock and dismay began hitting hard through the auras in the gym.  When Torec started climbing down the steps, their dismay increased.  He stood slightly over two-feet tall and might weigh forty pounds if he had lead weights in both pockets.  He wore a simple tunic and trousers, his feet bare.  He’d obviously grown some since arriving here.

“You can’t be serious,” Byrnes said, watching the brownie move through the crowd.

“Don’t worry, Major.  Torec won’t hurt your man,” Alsooth squealed happily near his kneecap.

“It’s good to meet you, Torec,” I said, nodding to the brownie as he faced us from one corner.  “Thank you for volunteering.  I know this goes against your nature.”

“Anything for our Lord Daybreak,” Torec squeaked even higher than most sprites, his eyes sparkling in Gilán’s blue almost as deeply as the diamonds in my chambers.  He was just so durn cute, I couldn’t help but smile at him.

I looked back at Byrnes and said, “Would you like me to choose for you, Major?”

“No,” he said, softly, pulling himself out of his shock.  Looking over the array of men, he called strongly, “No, sir.  Strickland, front and center.”

“First, put a rope in the middle, please,” I said, moving to the sidelines with Alsooth and Byrnes.  “Then raise a fence around the ring.  Those edges are sharp and we don’t want anybody hitting their heads on them.”

Staff Sergeant Strickland bounded down the steps of my makeshift amphitheater, nervous and worried.  He took the corner opposite Torec, nodding politely to him as he attempted to size the brownie up.  At five feet four, Strickland wouldn’t win any basketball championships but height wasn’t always a deciding factor in hand-to-hand combat.  I’d seen him the night before tossing someone a foot taller over his shoulder without too much apparent effort, and, two months ago, he could definitely have beaten the snot out of me.  He’d do.

Jimmy walked to the center of the ring with the coiled rope and looked at Strickland.  “You understand what you’re supposed to do, right?  Simple submission.”

“Yeah, but he looks like a little kid!” Strickland said shaking his head.  “I’m afraid I’m gonna hurt him.”

Jimmy chuckled as he headed to my side.  “Daybreak is right, man.  The brownie is more than you know.”  The fence raised as Jimmy passed over the edge of the mats, a pale orange energy blanket about a foot and a half high.

“Ready?” I asked loudly.  Strickland glanced over at me, shrugging.  “Begin.”  I watched him when he looked back at his opponent and realized he wasn’t there anymore.  The crowd gasped, not in unison, but it was a strong enough reaction that it could have been.  Strickland looked at me accusingly as the gasping turned into grumbling.  It would soon turn into protests.  “Sgt. Strickland, Torec is still in the ring.  I would suggest you move before he takes advantage of your stillness.”

At that moment the fence on Strickland’s right flared as Torec leapt and bounced against it, using it to gain speed and knock against the backsides of Strickland’s knees.  He buckled, first falling down then out as he tried to compensate awkwardly, arms akimbo.  Torec jumped at the fence again, flipping in a somersault and landing squarely in the middle of Strickland’s back and knocking the wind out of the soldier before running off a few yards.  The entire time he stayed invisible to the human eye.

“He’s invisible?” Byrnes cried out in disbelief.  Strickland’s face came up off the mat at the statement, eyes narrowing as he surveyed the ring critically.  The crowd was too busy trying to decide what happened.

“No, not invisible exactly,” I said casually, “He’s more like a chameleon.  In general, the pixies are better at it from what little I’ve seen.  I almost completely lose Shrank in the grass, for instance, but that was before I gained Daybreak.”

Strickland moved now, staying low to the ground and skittering forward and sideways like a crab, keeping his weight on his fingers and toes.  It was an expensive use of muscle power and would wear him out quickly.  He shifted in circles constantly, searching for any clue he could find that would declare Torec’s position.  From the man’s perspective, it was a perfectly reasonable plan.  By his second circle, Torec had his timing down, though, and crept to the center of the ring.  Each time Strickland’s head was turned from the center of the ring, Torec made quick adjustments to the coiled rope in the center.

Warnings came from the spectators as they finally caught on and saw the rope moving.  Shouts from Strickland’s fellow soldiers were quickly drowned out, though, as discordant tones from the brownies, both low and high, beat against the walls and ceiling of the gym.  Individual words were no longer decipherable in the cacophony.  All I could do was laugh, but Strickland still understood there was something wrong in the center of the ring.  He just had no choice but continue—he needed that rope.

Torec moved slowly to one side, away from the center.  Watching Strickland, he kicked the fence then ran at Strickland, his footsteps landing hard and noisy on the mat.  Four feet out, he jumped, arcing high, and landed on the back of Strickland’s head, smashing it hard into the mat.  Prepared but still dazed, Strickland rolled in the direction of Torec’s run and swung an arm out.  He hit the brownie and sent him sprawling into the mat and hitting the fence.  He flared briefly into visibility against it.

Emboldened by this minor victory, Strickland pushed himself up on his fingertips, swinging his legs underneath him and running, crouched, to the center of the ring.  Confident now, he reached for the rope, turning back to the fence as he did, but not only was Torec no longer visible, he wasn’t there.  It was a ruse.

Torec’s manipulations of the rope were to make knots and loop them casually back onto the coil to use at his leisure.  When Strickland ran after the rope, so did Torec and he was faster and quieter.  Strickland turned to find Torec already there.  The brownie slipped the first loop over his outstretched hand, tightening the coil.  He jerked the rope hard, pulling the man off-balance.  A second loop sat on the ground in front of his other hand, which he obligingly shifted into the loop to regain his balance.  Torec pulled again, tightening the loops together, then twirling the rope fast in the air.  Strickland fell forward landing awkwardly on his elbows, squirming as the twirling rope caught around his wrists, binding him further.

Then Torec ran straight for him, jumping again and landing on Strickland’s shoulders.  The rope still in hand, the brownie ran down the length of the man’s body and caught a foot in a third prepared loop of rope.  He twisted around rapidly and caught the rope around the man’s other leg and cinched the rope tight, wrapping it around his legs four times before tying it off.  When he hopped off the man to come stand before us across the fence, the crowd was pretty quiet.

Pushing through the fence, I knelt down before him, still smiling, and examined him carefully.  “Nicely demonstrated, Torec.  Are you hurt?”

“Thank you, Lord Daybreak,” squeaked the brownie, happily.  “I am unharmed.  I expected the blow and rolled with it.”

“Still, I left a bowl of fruit from my garden on the table in the dining room,” I said.  “There are some
Esteleum
that should take care of the bruised ribs, but be careful—it’s very potent.  The rest you can share with anyone you like, just don’t give any
Esteleum
to the humans since I don’t know how they’ll react to it yet.  Okay?”

“Yes, Lord Daybreak!” he squeaked and hopped the fence while I stood and went to help Jimmy with Strickland.

“Dude, quit struggling!  You’re only makin’ it worse,” Jimmy said, half laughing through the words.  I grabbed Strickland’s hands and held them together, giving Jimmy the slack he needed to loosen the knots.  Once free, Strickland rolled over onto his butt and glared up at me.

“
That
wa’dn’t fair!” he griped.

“If life was fair, Sergeant, I wouldn’t be responsible for over a thousand deaths before my eighteenth birthday,” I told him quietly.  Byrnes heard, I knew, but that wasn’t what I was going after.  Surveying the crowd again, I raised my voice and said, “The purpose of this wasn’t to embarrass Sgt. Strickland but to show that not everything is as it seems, especially where the Faery are concerned.”

I pushed away the fence that Jimmy had erected and waved Alsooth forward.  “Alsooth, purely hypothetically, had Sgt. Strickland known at the outset, would it have changed the contest?”

“It would possibly have changed his strategy, but it is doubtful that it would have changed the conclusion, Lord Daybreak,” Alsooth said cheerfully.