by Martha Carr
The camera turned off and the reporter, dressed in a nice suit, his hair perfect, with the all-American straight white smile, dropped his mic to his side and sighed. He looked at the two Light Elves standing just off camera and nodded.
“Okay, I’m ready. Do what you have to do.”
The cameraman walked up beside him as the elves prepared. “I’m not sure this is the smartest move.”
“This will make my career, and your name will be on it too. We can’t just pass up the biggest news story in history because we are scared. Pull it together. We’re doing this.”
The elves created a translucent ball of light that popped over the reporter’s and cameraman’s heads, putting them to sleep. One of the elves sent out another wisp of energy that carefully lowered them and their equipment to the ground. The larger elf looked at the other, raising an eyebrow, hoping this was the right thing to do. The smaller elf nodded and opened a portal. The two elves carefully moved the men through to the other side and laid them down on the grass.
After closing the portal, the larger elf flicked his finger and woke the men. The two men sat up, trying to figure out where they were.
“You’re in Santa Barbara. Come on, we have to get down to the kemana so we can show you Fairhaven.”
They gathered their equipment and followed the elves over a ridge where a gravel road led to a bridge. The cameraman gave Blake a knowing stare and shrugged, carefully making his way behind the elves.
At the base of the hill, the road ended under the bridge. Tall, steep concrete walls supported both sides, and the bridge archway loomed thirty feet over their heads. Blake swallowed hard but pressed forward. The elves put out their hands and stepped forward. Blake elbowed the cameraman and he flipped it on, scanning the symbols and shapes painted on the supports.
The elves stopped at an hourglass-shaped symbol made with two triangles and pressed their hands to it before stepping back. At first, nothing happened, but then the ground started to quake beneath them. The bridge over their heads shook as well, sending a cascade of pebbles down over them. Gold shone through the cracks in the wall around the symbol and quickly spread. Blake let out a deep breath, watching the sudden cold air turn to steam.
He widened his stance for stability and shook his head, definitely having doubts now. The concrete barriers shook, and large stones crumbled and disappeared before they could hit the ground. The sound of tearing came from nowhere, and Blake watched with wide eyes as a hole almost as tall as the bridge opened. Steps formed, cascading down into the darkness. All along the walls sparkled green crystals, lit up and hung there like lamps.
The elves descended and the cameraman gave Blake a shove, still filming as they entered the cave. Slowly they followed the elves, the air growing cooler with every step. Blake looked up at one of the green crystals, staring at what looked to be a tiny flame inside. It wasn’t anything like any stone he had ever seen on Earth, but then again, there was apparently a lot he didn’t know about his planet.
When they reached the bottom of the steps, they stopped and stared out over a huge open cavern, spanning as far as the eye could see. Shining green stalactites hung from the ceiling and stalagmites protruded from the stone floor. In the center was an enormous version of those small green lights. It pointed down at the middle of the cavern.
Blake couldn’t believe his eyes, and the cameraman could barely take in everything he saw with his camera. Below the large stone in the center was a white marble castle, with roads extending from every side like the arms of an octopus. There was a city down here. Buildings filled the cavern. Blake looked over the edge at the nearby people, living their lives down there like he did above. It was the strangest and most exciting thing he had ever seen.
His mind ran wild, wondering what kind of magical things he would find there. What kind of documentary style production he would be able to get on film? It was a hidden city, something right out of a storybook or fantasy movie. Even the people below were part of it—links in the chain of a whole other civilization hiding beneath the surface of the Earth.
The elves waved them forward to a long winding staircase etched into the side of the cavern. Normally Blake would complain about that kind of exercise, but he couldn’t wait to take in every inch of the journey.
When they reached the bottom, the elves stopped and allowed the humans to catch their breath. Blake looked in every direction, unsure that what he was actually seeing was real. In front of him was a wide white road, but instead of cars like topside there hundreds of magical beings. To the right and left were black brick shops with people milling in and out, purchasing everything from clothes to large weapons.
Blake and the cameraman filmed what they could, but they had no idea where they were and no one spoke to them. The elves ushered them along so fast they hardly had the time to get a good look.
The elves had explained from the start that the kemana needed to be protected and that they could not film everything in the world below.
“You can’t use the stuff you filmed already, but you can use what you are about to see,” one of the elves promised, waving his hand over the camera. Blake was pretty sure he’d just erased the footage they’d shot thus far.
“What are we about to see?”
“Our favorite sport,” the smaller elf said with enthusiasm. “A game for the ages. It’s called ‘Berserk.’”
The elves stepped out of the way. They were in front of a huge field, with crowded stands all around them.
Blake smiled. “This is exactly what we came for.”
14
The reporter ducked to one side as a helmet blew past his head and bounced off several magical beings behind him. The cameraman looked at him worriedly but laughed when the reporter grinned. The crowd around them jumped to their feet as a tall skinny elf made a mad dash toward a row of three silver trashcans at end of the field. As he approached, pulling his arm back with a small green ball in his hand, a very large ogre barreled toward him, leaped through the air, and tackled him to the ground.
The ogre roared triumphantly as he climbed off the elf, who had been embedded slightly into the field. The elf groaned as he pulled himself up. His arm was obviously broken. The little green ball rolled out of his hand and hit the ground, with a pair of big wide eyes poking out of the top. The elf straightened the bones with a crack and grimaced before looking right and left and racing toward another ball, this one black. The reporter leaned back, catching his two elven guides’ attention.
“Isn’t he going to go see a doctor or something?”
“No, not until the end. If you go to the doc before then, you are out the rest of the game. It’s a rule. Most of the guys play through their injuries. I once saw an ogre play through three-quarters of a game with his kneecap on the other side of his leg. It’s pretty intense.”
“Sounds like football.”
The cameraman steadied the camera and glanced at the reporter. “Yeah, if you have no rules, no padding, and the players don’t go out for broken toes.”
The reporter and cameraman leaned back as an elf skimmed across the short wall separating them from the oblong field. He scooped up a gold ball and smiled down at it just as an ogre plowed into him, smashing him against the wall. The reporter grimaced as the ogre grabbed the elf and threw him down, kicking dirt in his face. He tried to grab the ball from the elf, but his big hands were too slow. The ball, seemingly alive, took off across the field, zigzagging through the grass.
“Wait, those balls are alive?”
The elf chuckled. “Yeah, they are creatures called fidgets. They’re extremely difficult to catch. They scatter in every direction as soon as you let them loose, and are only held in by these barriers.”
“So, the fast guys, mostly elves I’m assuming, have to catch them?”
“Yeah,” the smaller elf confirmed. “They are responsible for chasing down the fidgets and slam-dunking them into the cans down there. Gold is worth ten, black is worth fifty,
and green, a hundred. Those big guys are there to stop you and the others to block you, depending on whether you are defense or offense.”
“Interesting,” the reporter replied, watching the ogres run down the field. “And I suppose they are all magical creatures?”
“Magical people?” the larger one corrected condescendingly. “Yes, humans would die out there. At the end, they all line up to see the doctor, and he fixes anything they can’t with their own magic.”
“I love it,” the cameraman whispered as he recorded the game.
The reporter was impressed. He hadn’t thought that he would find anything like this, even though the elves had told them they would be going to a sporting event. In his mind, he’d expected something with wands and crazy displays of magic. From the looks of it, though, the people around him—the magical beings—didn’t use magic as much as he’d assumed. In reality, he hadn’t been sure what to expect, but the game and everything about Fairhaven exceeded his expectations.
The roar of the crowd brought his attention to the stands across the field. He watched as they did their own version of the wave. Sparkling magic morphed and moved, creating what looked to be an actual wave moving across the stands. He elbowed the cameraman, who raised his equipment up and caught it on tape. Just as he lowered the camera, an elf nabbed a green fidget and started running as fast as his legs could carry him, which admittedly was a bit faster than most from Earth. As he closed on the barrels the reporter stood up, his hands clenched at his sides.
“Go, go!”
The elf clutched the fidget as he dodged a tackle and jumped over a fallen ogre. He passed the center of the field and picked up the pace, his teammates clearing the way. On the elf’s right, an ogre charged, ready to meet him right before the trashcan. One of the elf’s teammates tackled another ogre in front of him, and the reporter watched as the elf ran right up the pile of ogres and leaped off, his arms stretched toward the cans.
At the same moment the ogre dove for the elf. He snagged him, and they hit the ground. The elf bent his arm and lobbed the fidget, the furry ball going high and then falling into the trashcan. Everyone was off their seats, flags flying high and cheers bellowing through the open stadium. The ogre angrily climbed off the elf, who was a little more than injured. His legs were folded over him, and his helmet had tufts of grass and dirt stuck in it.
The ref blew the whistle and held up his hand, signaling for them to pause the game. It was obvious that elf wasn’t going to just shake it off. His teammates surrounded him as their opponents gathered on their side of the field, bumping heads, growling, and snorting. The doctor ran out, looked at him, shook his head, and signaled for the medics to load him on the stretcher.
“What does that mean?” the reporter asked.
A woman behind him leaned over. “He ain’t well enough to even attempt to keep playin’.”
The reporter nodded and watched as the stretcher raced off the field with the injured elf, who gave a small wave to the crowd with his less-broken arm. The ref walked over and pulled the fidget out of the can, lifting it into the air. The crowd cheered again as the floating scoreboard changed, putting the Fairhaven team ahead by a hundred points.
“This is intense.”
The larger elf leaned back behind the cameraman and looked at the reporter. “We take our Berserk very seriously here. When my grandfather lived on Oriceran, he said the matches drew so many people magical stands would be erected just to give everyone a decent view. Here it’s a bit less because there is an arena in each magical kemana. Not as many people travel for the games now.”
“With the kind of stuff that I’ve seen become popular with humans, I can see this being something they could really throw themselves into.”
“I can see that too. There are a lot of different sports on Earth, a lot more than on Oriceran. People are pretty serious about their favorite football and baseball teams. The magical beings on Earth get that. They get into it, but having something like this—something from and by their own people—is really comforting, especially for those who came from Oriceran and miss their home. It’s a way for all different magical beings to come together in a unified space. I’ve seen all kinds of witches, wizards, elves, and Kilomea come and watch the game, and even if they fuck each other up later, they are cordial and calm at the game. It’s like an unspoken thing down here.”
“I can see that,” the reporter replied. “Humans do the same thing, only rivalries can get a bit intense during games. All in all, it’s how we come together—we connect through sports. It’s a centuries-old tradition among humans. I can see this being a key piece to helping the non-magicals start to see the magicals for who they are, not who they are said to be.”
“I hope so,” one of the elves responded. “We definitely love this game, and if it’s a conversation starter, that’s a great thing—or at least I think so. I know others might have a different view.”
“Well, all we can do is put it together when we get back and release it for the world to see. It’ll be a showstopper, that’s for sure. Humans have never seen anything like this.”
“Let’s just hope it doesn’t freak them out,” the cameraman suggested, turning from the elves.
The reporter looked at him and back at the field as one ogre rammed into another, slicing his claws along its side. “Yeah, let’s hope.”
When the guys got back to the surface the elves delivered them back to their van, which was parked in the city as promised. The men thanked them for their candor and the glimpse inside the world of the magical. The cameraman loaded the equipment, and they headed back to his place. They figured the editing was probably best done in as private a setting as possible. When they downloaded the feed to their laptops, they discovered that, just as they had thought, the beginning of the footage was gone. However, the elves did leave the entirety of the footage of the game, including the ogre’s slash to the other.
The men watched the video all the way through, making note of the pieces they felt needed to be edited. While they wanted truth, they had no desire to fan the flames of fear. They wanted the footage to make the audience feel they were in that stadium, but if all they saw were crushed bones and dripping teeth, fear would start to rise again. It was a game, just like any on Earth. It was in fact on Earth, just far below the surface. Hidden by magic, protected by the magicals.
They edited through the night, scratching and re-scratching, cutting and filling, making the footage absolutely perfect. This would be the biggest story of the reporter’s career. Around three in the morning as the cameraman revised the most recent edit, the reporter started the coffeemaker and stared out the back window.
After the visit to the kemana, the world around him seemed so bleak; so normal. The world would become a much more interesting place if it shone like Fairhaven did. If people cheered on ogres and elves, if they sat side-by-side with witches, wizards, and the dozens of other creatures he had seen while there. He hadn’t taken a side, though his inner self had always leaned toward concern. However, after being immersed in their extracurricular entertainment and not feeling the least bit uncomfortable, he swayed toward a peaceful resolution.
The coffeemaker hissed and gurgled, signaling its finish. Blake grabbed two cups and filled them, sighing as he walked back to the living room. The cameraman had finished his revisions and was saving the file to his computer.
“I think we might have a winner here, Blake.”
“Yeah? I hope so. The sun is about to come up, and we need to get this out there for the early risers. They promised me a morning news slot if I came back with anything worthwhile.”
“Well, let’s check this baby out. I edited out your excitement. Didn’t need the network to appear biased. You know how they are about that.”
“Right, because they obviously took no side in the last election.” Blake chuckled, rolling his eyes.
“Still, let them decide what they want to do. Okay, you ready?”
“Bor
n ready.”
He clicked Play. The video opened with action shots. The elf leaped in slow motion over the ogre, only to get caught in the side. As the elf fobbed the fidget toward the trashcan he’d zoomed in on the little creature, catching a glimpse of its blinking eyes before it dunked into the metal can. The footage zoomed back out, the ogre huffing and walking away, watching the elf being treated by the medic. The rest of the video was action with a little gore, just enough to show how badass the sport was. Somewhere in the middle the camera shifted, showing the perfect magical wave roll across the spectators like a special effect in a movie. The end was perfect: the winning team rallying and carrying the injured elf—who was seemingly fine after an hour in the med tent—over their heads. He had scored the goal that won them the game in the end.
“What do you think?”
“I think I need you to email that to Rob, the producer, and I’ll give him a call.”
“You’ll wake him up. It's almost dawn.”
“He’ll be okay with it once he watches the video.”
Blake grabbed his phone waiting for the signal that it had been emailed over. Just like they thought Rob wasn’t too happy for the early call, but when he watched the video, that changed. Blake was to report to the studio at five and get ready to go on air. He needed a play-by-play voiceover. Blake hung up and gave his cameraman the thumbs-up, knowing that things were about to get crazy.
“As you can see from the grand finale, the major scorer was fine in the end.”
“That seems like quite the adventure.” The woman newscaster gave a fake chuckle as the camera panned back to the two of them at the newsroom desk.
“That it was, and I have to say, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“I’m sure.” She smiled, turning forward. “If you missed the video just shown, please visit us online. You can watch the whole thing on your laptop or mobile device. We will be back right after this message with your local weather.”
