by Hiatt, Bill
Stan moved over next to me, then turned, glared at Gordy and motioned him away. Gordy stepped back just a few steps and kept his eyes fixed on Stan.
“Well, how does it feel to be me?” asked Stan.
“What do you mean?” I asked, clueless about where he was going.
“How does it feel to be sidelined when the fighting starts?”
I ignored the sting in that remark and focused on the fact that Stan was still hung up on having a bodyguard. “Stan, you haven’t been sidelined.”
“No, for me it’s even worse. At least you get to fight in a pinch. What am I supposed to do, hide under a table when the action starts?”
“No need,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “You can always hide under Gordy.”
“Not funny!” said Stan sullenly.
“Look, I’ll admit I had a hard time seeing Shar suddenly become the lead fighter, but Nurse Florence was right—I’m more valuable in a different role—and that role depends upon you. Stan, I can never learn the science we need to neutralize Winn’s physical firepower in just a few days. Some of it I might never get. But you, you already have it. You not only know the science; you have the ability to visualize concretely. I can read it from you, and with that knowledge, I can create the fusion between magic and science that will save us in the end. Without you, we could never succeed.”
“Intellectually, I know you’re right,” admitted Stan in a tone that somewhat undercut his words, “but emotionally, I want you to know how hard this is for me. You were always in pretty good physical shape; you have really never had to be the little nerd. I’ve been that all my life, and now that I’m in better shape, somehow I’m still the little nerd. I have enough muscle now to do something in a fight, but it doesn’t even occur to anyone to train me.”
I didn’t have the heart to bring up the martial arts fiasco at this point. “Well, Stan, since I know you’ll be there anyway, maybe we can find a more active role for you to play, but I don’t want you taking foolish chances, and I don’t want you to give Gordy a hard time about the bodyguard thing.” Stan nodded reluctantly. “By the way, what did he say to you a while ago?”
“That he really wanted to protect me, that it was his idea. I know the second part is a lie, since he wouldn’t have known I needed protection before he was recruited, but he is sincere about wanting the job.” Stan paused, actually a little bit lost for words. “Tal, you have been looking out for me as long as I can remember, but Gordy, I didn’t really know him until I started tutoring him, and he acts like we’ve been friends forever, like he cares about me, well, more than anyone else on campus except you.”
“He really appreciates the tutoring, and I think he is more perceptive than people give him credit for. He knows what a good person you are, Stan, and he responds to that.”
“I know he means well, but his keeping such a close watch makes me feel even more inadequate. You have never done that to me, and Dan doesn’t do that to you…”
“I’ll talk to him when we get back home, but…” I was interrupted at that point by the return of Nurse Florence, her face actually flushed with excitement. I had never seen her like that before, and it was hot, but I forced myself not to think about it.
“Gentlemen, I think I can get us some additional weapons, Gordy, if you and Dan aren’t too fussy. They won’t be in quite the same league as White Hilt and Zom, but they could still give you an edge in a fight with Winn’s security, who I am pretty sure won’t be carrying magical weapons. And your weapons will be made for you.”
“Someone still makes magical weapons?” asked Dan. He hadn’t betrayed surprise too often recently, but he did this time.
“Not quite like they used to, but yes. It is likely, though, that you will be tested to determine your worthiness. Nothing potentially deadly or overly dangerous, but such weapons are not without cost.”
“Whatever the test is, bring it on!” replied Gordy with a big smile. The more I saw of that guy, the more I liked him. I had to pat myself on the back a little for suggesting his recruitment.
“The test is going to be in Annwn,” said Nurse Florence. Stan and I both gasped; everyone else remained surprisingly impassive. “It is being organized by Gwynn ap Nuad himself.”
“The king of all Welsh faeries?” I asked. We had met in an earlier life, so I was not as surprised as you might think. In the background I could hear Dan explaining the idea of faeries to Gordy.
“The same. Only he can authorize Govannon, the faerie smith, to give weapons or armor to a mortal. Now, the court is waiting for us, so, if you don’t mind…” A word or two in Welsh, a few gestures, and suddenly a glowing portal appeared in their midst.
“Ladies first,” I said. She passed through quickly, followed by me, Dan, Shar, Gordy, who insisted on going through first to make sure it was safe, and Stan.
Distances don’t work the same way in the Otherworld that they do in ours. Passing through a portal in city hall, we had come out in Morgan Le Fay’s prison. Passing through near Lake Cachuma, about twenty miles away, put us in the realm of Gwynnn ap Nuad, many thousands of miles from Morgan. Someone, like Nurse Florence, who knew what she was doing, could pretty well pick anywhere in Annwn and end up there from anywhere on earth. I should have been able to do the same thing, but, well, one problem at a time.
The glow faded, and I jumped to find myself almost right in front of Gwynn himself, looking as he was always portrayed in literature, dark of face, mounted on his war horse, surrounded by his three enormous hounds, one white, one red, and one black, looking somewhat fiercer than any of them. He was flanked on each side by several faerie warriors, each pale, faired haired, and handsome, staunch men of the Tylwyth Teg, each carrying a formidable looking long sword. Despite all the stories about faerie celebration, this was the grimmest group I had seen in quite a while. Then I noticed behind them Govannon, soot smudged from the forge, waiting patiently to see whether or not he needed to labor more today.
“Viviane,” said Gwynn, in a booming voice, “seldom have I been called upon in such a peremptory fashion.”
Nurse Florence bowed to him. “Pardon me, your Majesty, but as I told you, the need is great, so great I pray you excuse my unmannerly approach.”
Abruptly he turned his piercing eyes on me. “And Taliesin, you rascal, I never thought to see you here again, and in a different body, I see. Is that how you got in?”
“I brought him, Majesty,” said Nurse Florence quickly. “In this life he has yet to learn how to travel to Annwn as he was wont to do before.”
“Of course he can’t. Arawn is still angry with him for helping Arthur steal that sword Taliesin carries at his side. Perhaps Arawn will forgive him if he returns it.” Arawn had once been king of all Annwn, but I had never imagined he still carried a grudge for something I did on Arthur’s orders fifteen hundred years ago. Well, at least that solved one mystery.
“In any case, I will not meddle in Arawn’s affairs. I did not let Taliesin in; there is no ban on dealing with him once he’s here.” Gordy and Shar, who had never been in the Otherworld before, were looking around with something akin to wonder on their faces. It was not that there was anything overtly supernatural—well, aside from the red hound, perhaps—but everything, from the undulating mist to the vividly green grass, to the unblemished skin of the faerie knights, never looked completely real if you were used to the mortal world.
“So you wish faerie weapons,” said Gwynn, turning his attention to Gordy and Dan. “You must be found worthy to wield such weapons. But before your test, I will test the worthiness of the rest of your party.” He turned back to me. “You first, Taliesin. You weren’t much of a warrior back when we first met. Let’s see if you are worthy to wield the sword you stole.” He turned to one of his warriors, and gestured to him to sheath his weapon. “Anyone can win a battle with White Hilt, but for a mortal man to beat a faerie bare-handed, that, now that, would truly demonstrate your worth.” Gwynn nodded, and the f
aerie warrior sprang at me.
The problem with a mortal fighting a faerie hand-to-hand was that the faerie was always going to be faster—or so the conventional wisdom ran. I decided to put the idea to the test, humming to myself, willing my body to move faster. Faeries weren’t comic book superhero fast, so I should be able to be at least as agile and swift as my opponent. The faerie punched me in the stomach and stopped my humming, but I somehow kept up a fairly competitive speed, dodging the next blow and even managing to deliver a punch of my own. Then the faerie got in three more good shots in rapid succession. But though the faerie was faster, he was not anywhere nearly as strong as Shar, probably not even as strong as I was. And this was not a boxing match, so I took another punch on purpose, grabbed the faery’s right arm, and flung him to the grass. For a second he seemed stunned, but he was up again faster than my human reactions could interfere. Again, I managed enough magic to speed myself up, once more reminded of how hard it was to do magic and fight at the same time. Then I grabbed him, and threw him to the ground, with me on top of him, holding on as if he were a leprechaun and I thought if I held on long enough I would get a pot of gold. He didn’t have the strength to just throw me off, but he wriggled mightily, twisting against me for some time, and then finally announced in Welsh that he yielded. I let him up, and he bowed to me before retiring to his old place next to Gwynn.
“Well done, Taliesin. I see you have not grown too dependent upon your blade. Now, you,” he said, gesturing to Shahriyar. Another faerie warrior sheathed his sword and stepped forward. “Oh,” he said, turning to me again. “I almost forgot to mention—each warrior fights his own battle.” In other words, I could not use music or magic to aid any of my “warriors.”
But did Shar really need the help? Let’s just say faeries must not spend a lot of time watching boxing. Shar was considerably slower than the faerie and had no way of speeding up, but after watching my fight, he took a few faerie blows, pretended to be dizzy, lured the faerie close enough, and bam! The strength of his punch stunned the faerie, slowing him down enough for Shar to land several more. Even though he was being careful not to do something like hit the faerie in the mouth, knowing the faerie had no mouth guard, there was still considerable blood by the time the faerie yielded.
“Very well done! You too are worthy of the blade you wield. What is your name?”
“Shahriyar, Majesty.”
“Ah, Great King! Doubly worthy, then. Now, moving on from those who have weapons to those that seek them, will one of you step forward?” Dan did so. “Very good, then, this test will be in armed combat.” I had to snicker a little. The faeries were not doing so well in hand-to-hand, despite their speed, so Gwynn was switching tactics. Doubtless each of them was an expert with the blade—and still fast—while neither Dan nor Gordy had ever practiced with a sword. I could not see this part ending well. Perhaps Shar should have made the last faery bleed just a little less.
One of the warriors handed Dan his sword, and then stepped back, just as one of his fellow warriors charged Dan, who had not really even gotten used to the feel of the blade.
Dan tried his best to emulate moves he had seen me make, but one can only learn so much by watching. The test was explicitly not supposed to be a fight to the death, so all his opponent really did was scratch him, but each scratch inflicted a small wound that started bleeding, and Dan had something like fifteen of them in a couple of minutes. He kept trying to imitate Shar’s move in hitting my blade almost out of my hand. The problem was that the faerie did not let the swords collide solidly. He was in and out before Dan could complete his swing.
The ground beneath them was now red, and Dan’s strokes were visibly weaker. Gwynn looked about to bring the fight to an end, but Dan, perhaps sensing his intent, looked at him and said, quietly but clearly, “I do not yield.”
“He’s bleeding pretty badly,” I said urgently to Nurse Florence.
“He needs to yield. Gwynn knows I can heal him, so he is allowing this to continue, but there is a limit to what even I can do.”
“Dan, yield,” I yelled at him. Dan was teetering as if he would fall. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. The ground was slippery with his own blood, but still he did not yield. He staggered, and the faerie slowed, anticipating that Dan would either yield or pass out. And that’s when Dan got him with a head butt in the stomach. The faerie stumbled backwards, and Dan pursued with surprising energy, this time landing a couple of good blows that drew sparks from the faerie’s blade. On the third one, the faerie’s sword was ripped from his hand, and he yielded. Clearly, Dan had been faking a little, just like Shar.
“You are not much of a swordsman,” observed Gwynn, narrowing his eyes, “and you won by trickery, but I did not specify any rules, and the final blows were certainly struck with a sword. Besides, you showed great perseverance.” He turned to Gordy. “Ready?”
“I was born ready!” said Gordy, stepping forward, undaunted by Dan’s scraped up and bloodied condition. Dan fell back almost literally into Nurse Florence’s arms, and she began healing him as fast as she could.
Gordy had obviously been watching Dan’s battle. The moment the sword was in his hand, he charged the advancing faerie warrior, taking the battle straight to him instead of trying to take a defensive stance. Gordy was holding the sword, but not making much effort to protect himself, and the faerie got in a couple of good scratches. In a real fight, he would have thrust his sword deeply into Gordy, but he did not do so, and so Gordy was able to get away with a move he would never have survived to make in a real fight. He threw the sword aside at the last minute and tackled the surprised faerie. Evidently, faeries didn’t follow football, either. There was no getting out from under Gordy, and the faerie yielded.
“Another trickster? Taliesin, do you have any actual fighters besides Shahriyar?” Gordy looked incredibly downcast; clearly, he did not want to fail at this, but Gwynn’s tone left little doubt in his mind that he had.
“You didn’t mention any rules this time, either, Majesty,” I pointed out in my most tactful tone.
“Well, so I didn’t, but I must confer with my warriors, nonetheless. Gwynn actually dismounted from his war horse and gestured for his warriors to follow him. They walked some distance away and spoke in grave whispers. Govannon eyed us inquisitively but said nothing.
“How is Dan?” I asked as I stepped over to where Nurse Florence was working on him.
“Lots of little wounds, but none of them anywhere nearly as deep as yours at UCSB,” she said absently, focusing most of her attention on the healing process. “He will heal fine. See if you can stop Gordy’s bleeding, and I will attend to him when I can,” she said, handing me a small first aid kit.
“I screwed it up,” said Gordy as I did what I could to clean his wounds. I had never heard him sound so forlorn.
“I’m not so sure. Gwynn let Dan get away with sort of the same thing. And anyway, what you did was clever. You sized up the situation really well and created a strategy to win on a moment’s notice.”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” snapped Gordy. “I know most people think I’m a dumb ass, but I thought you were different.”
“Gordy, I don’t think you’re a dumb ass.” Well, to be honest, I did have my doubts.
“Well, I’m not,” he said emphatically. “Nurse Florence figured it out from watching my dreams. I have ADHD. I’ve just never been diagnosed. That’s why I had so much trouble keeping up in school, and yeah, now I’m pretty behind. Nobody has been able to make me concentrate for long, well, except Stan. But now Nurse Florence promised that as long as I help you and Stan, my ADHD won’t bother me. The other day I sat down and did a homework assignment in ten minutes that would have taken me an hour before. And I understood it.”
Interesting. I would never have guessed, but treating Gordy’s ADHD was maybe easier than causing Dan to always perform at his highest level on the football field, for all I knew. It made me wonder what Shar was gett
ing out of his bargain.
Then another thought occurred to me: ADHD had been unknown in medieval times. There would have been no spell to heal it, because no one knew what it was. So how could Nurse Florence have cured Gordy? Now I suspected I knew why Nurse Florence was so confident I could learn how to blend magic and technology—she herself had found a way to blend magic and modern medical knowledge!
Then I went back to marveling a little at Nurse Florence’s cleverness, not for the first time. She always seemed to know exactly the right deal to make, but she also knew whom to approach; she picked up on Dan’s latent friendship for me when nobody else noticed it. She kept finding people who had reasons other than just the bargain for working with us. Well, come to think of it, I was the one who suggested Shar and Gordy to her, and both of them had loyalty that transcended the bargain. Time to marvel at my own cleverness, well, at least a little bit.
“My warriors and I have conferred,” said Gwynn, almost right behind us, “and your last fighter’s approach, though…unusual, showed courage. He ran practically into a blade, left himself wide open, in order to catch my warrior by surprise. Even though he knew the fight was not to the death, he could easily have been gravely injured, if only by accident. He, too, is a worthy fighter…though what good swords will do two fighters without the skill to use them, I have no idea.
“They will have good teachers,” said Shar, coming to stand next to me. Gwynn chuckled a little.
“Well, I don’t doubt that. But they have only days in which to become proficient. Even the best teachers would have a hard time on such a schedule. Still, you have proven yourselves worthy of at least being given a chance.”
