“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.
&n
bsp; “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.
“And if the I exchanged the participant for any other man in this room?”
“I would have to answer that question in stages, Lord.”
“You can exclude me, my First, and my brothers,” I said, smiling.
“In a majority of cases, the exchange will not produce any significant differences in the outcome. With the soldiers with the taint, their chances increase to perhaps 1 in 100. In the case of the Agents, the odds change in their favor to 100 to 1. With your assistants, 1,000 to 1. With Mr. Borland, the odds would be insurmountably against us.”
“And if we exchange Torec with an elf?” I asked.
“Then the soldier’s odds would be insurmountably high with or without the taint. The Agents’ odds would fall to 1 to 1,000. Your assistants would be roughly equal depending on the elf’s level. And I would be unable to estimate Mr. Borland’s abilities at that point, but we have seen Mr. McClure punch another Lord of Faery and send him flying several feet.” That particular statement caused a shrieking cheer through the brownies in the room, startling the soldiers and causing an embarrassed grin in my father. They faded into view in the stands as they stomped the floors and cheered raucously. All I could do was stand and laugh as my father blushed and ducked his head in embarrassment.
I raised my hands to regain the room. At least half of it was very happy. “I’m sorry, I’m being selfish here and doing something I said I wouldn’t. I asked the question of Alsooth originally to help assuage Sgt. Strickland’s embarrassment, not to point out class differences. The point is do not underestimate the Fae. I would not leave you in their charge if I thought them incapable of both protecting and helping you. But there is no reason to abuse and ridicule them, either.
“Would you care to add anything?” I asked my brothers, looking up the aisle. Peter wanted to say something, but he was still too nervous about misspeaking again. He definitely had that penchant. When no one came forward, I started replacing the floors. “Then I’ll return everyone to what you were doing. Thank you for listening.”
The Fae flowed out of the gym like a river even as the floors slid into place silently. I honestly couldn’t say what the men were more astounded by, the floor or the overwhelming number of short people they suddenly found themselves surrounded by. This finished any tasks that needed doing with the barracks and pretty much the Palace Fae in general.
I pondered what to do next. I supposed now was as good a time as any to talk to Gordon again. I picked up Jimmy and shifted us over to the Castle in Ireland.
Chapter 27
“Hey, Billy, it’s Seth,” I said, beginning the call-in procedures on the phone. “I’ve got First with me.”
“Morning, Seth, we’ve been expecting you,” Billy answered. “They’re in Gordon’s office now.”
“Okay, I’ll be down in a minute,” I said, slowly replacing the phone in its cradle. “I’m ‘expected.’ Wonder what that means?”
Little Brother, where are you? Kieran called.
On my way to talk to Gordon about something I discovered last night, I responded as Jimmy and I meandered through the castle hallways. Apparently, I’m expected.
We should talk before you do that, Seth, he said across the link.
By then we were standing in the outer offices of the Cahills and it was a bit too late to just “talk.”
“Hello, Sean,” I said, simultaneously pushing the words through the link to Kieran. Darius Fuller’s son sat flipping through a magazine in the waiting room of Gordon’s office. “What brings you to Ireland?” Yeah, I bet we need to talk, big brother.
“Hi, Mr. McClure,” Sean said, nervously, standing up in a hurry and dropping the magazine to the table. “Honestly, I’m not sure why he dragged me along. Dad said I might be helpful and that I needed to start learning about politics anyway, so… here I am.” He shrugged, helplessly.
I felt the transitions of Kieran, Peter, and Ethan as well as the large entourage they pulled along with them—everyone but the soldiers. They must’ve changed their plans with the FBI. A burst of laughter from Gordon’s office made me look through the walls and see who was inside: Felix, Gordon, Bishop, Fuller, and Phillips. I’m sure I wouldn’t find whatever they laughed at funny, at least at the moment.
“Well, I’m sure we’ll find out what it’s all about soon enough,” I said, sitting in one of the other empty chairs. Kieran, Dad, and Ethan were already on their way down while Peter and Richard were doing something with the other six men—I couldn’t exactly tell what through the castle’s ward and I didn’t try that hard. “Oh, Sean, this is First. First, Sean Fuller, Darius Fuller’s son. He’s the president of the US Council of wizards or whatever it’s called.” They exchanged polite greetings as I used the foundation Stone to create a wall between us and the door. Then a fairly simple but strong veil brought the image of the wall behind us forward a little, making us virtually invisible.
Kieran, Ethan, and Dad tore through the office, flinging the door opening, and rushing in without invitation. “Seth—” Kieran started then realized I wasn’t inside the office he just stormed into. “Where’s Seth?”
“We thought he was with you,” Gordon said, worried now, as he stood up and pushed into the castle’s ward. “Billy called and said he was on his way. He should have been here by now.”
“Where’s Sean?” Fuller asked, looking out into the outer office for his son.
For the first time, I realized how nervous everyone was, exactly how high the anxiety levels really were. Phillips stepped into the doorway, examining the outer office.
“This room is smaller,” he said quietly, his eyes darting from side to side.
“Very good, Mr. Phillips,” I said, dismissing the veiled wall and standing up to face him. “Even my brothers, who should have caught that immediately, walked right past me.”
“Seth, we really need to talk about this,” Kieran said over Phillips’ shoulder.
“Oh? Why? So you can explain to me why my family has decided that I can no longer make my own decisions?” I asked acidly. “Wait, not even that. I don’t even get a voice in making them at all. I don’t even get to give an opinion, do I? Really don’t understand that. I was smart enough to haul your dumb ass out of a paradoxical universe but I can’t make a decision about who does and does not attend a party? How fucked up is that?”
Even Sean snorted in surprise and I don’t think he had a clue as to what I meant. Phillips moved into the room, followed by Fuller, my Dad, and Ethan. Kieran stood framed in the doorway.
“I guess I should thank you,” I said, meeting Kieran’s gaze with a hard stare while he tried to find the right words to placate me. “When I looked into the Princesses, what I noticed most quickly was the emotional gaps, but you seem intent on making me hit everything. Well, ya’ got betrayal down now.”
“Seth, that is not fair,” barked my father angrily.
“The hell it’s not,” I barked back, just as mad. “Come o
n, First. My workload just doubled.” I shifted the two of us to the Throne room and sealed Gilán tightly against further transfers, shutting us in. The Named Callings began immediately from both Kieran and Ethan, then Ethan tried pushing through the anchor. “Don’t,” I said emphatically and clamped down on it hard. I’d blocked everyone before and I could do it again.
Jimmy stood at the bottom of the steps looking lost and confused, but unwilling to leave me alone. “I don’t know what to do here, Seth,” he said quietly.
“I don’t either, Jimmy,” I admitted. “Ethan is the only one who has said anything that I can understand and that’s not enough to explain what’s going on in their heads. Why they’re shutting me out. Again.”
With the shield around Gilán thickened, their attempts to shift through it felt like dull thumps in the back of my head. Their cries for my attention, both through the diamonds—Dad’s, Felix’s, and Gordon’s—and the Named Callings of my brothers were piteous whimpers in reality, but were hitting me like fingernails on a chalkboard. Hopefully both would slow soon and I’d be able to release the hold on the shield, for Ian and Marty’s sake if nothing else. I’d still be able to block everyone else, but there were a few people that needed to have the emergency exit available to them.
“Well, I’ve got over a million reasons not to sit here brooding about it,” I said, grabbing both armrests and heaving myself up. “Let’s go look at some geasa.”
~ ~ ~
Jimmy and I made fifty-seven stops before I saw even the slightest problem in any of the geasa of the Faery here and it was a slight, almost atomic, difference in the little slip of a she-sprite. There was nothing wrong with her or the geas itself that I could see, though. Everything was in its proper place. The bindings were there to keep her alive and would flow properly to her children. We moved on and found more. Not many, comparatively speaking, but enough to worry about, a few thousand.
By sunset, I was sitting on the rail of the overlook facing the Palace as the sunset behind it, pensive and moody and confused about the problem I was seeing. All staring at the problem did for me was exacerbate the irritation I felt for Kieran. Jimmy’s bindings were too different to help constructively. The spell itself looked exactly the same on each faery. The problem was in the energy flows. Each problem I found was infinitesimally small fluctuations in the energy flow between the subject and Gilán. It looked like it could propagate with time and possibly break the geas’ control, doing what, I couldn’t say.
Sons (Book 2) Page 49
