Root and Branch

by Tripp Greyson

  Calvin had grown several inches taller since arriving in Hamiltown, his chest and shoulders had broadened, and he was good-looking, so all the Terran ladies were paying him a lot of attention. So were the Pooka and Olbytla ladies. Being a Y-Chromosome Repository with his geas unlocked, there was no way he could stay a virgin for long, and I'm sure he gave up what the Dixies called his "V-card" (for some reason) before officially reaching majority. How busy he was I had no idea, but I had Tripp prepare a Fatherhood Ledger for him just in case.

  I confirmed that he was the one using my Chamber when I caught him and Toméz's boys Telly and Gandy exiting one morning as I was entering. Their hair was tousled, and all three were clad only in Elf loincloths; my brother had become fast friends with the Elves from the beginning, and had taken up their clothing habit when he wasn't around Mother. He was already as brown from the sun as they were naturally, and I suspected he liked showing off his body to the ladies, the pervert.

  "What's going on?" I asked suspiciously.

  "Oh, we were just waiting for you to get here," Calvin said smoothly. "We knew you were on your way."

  "We wanted to know if we could borrow some marble throwers from Puck and go squirrel hunting," Gandiflyn continued.

  "Uh huh. And what were you doing in my Chamber?"

  "Nothing," Telemond said quickly, his face blank with innocence. "Just waiting."

  "So if I go in there, my bed will be like I left it?"

  "Yes," they all said simultaneously, then Calvin backtracked. "Well… maybe a little messier? We, uh, wrestled some while we were waiting for you." His eyes were wide and guiltless.

  I suspected the wrestling was the type that involved inserting Tab A into Slot B, but I didn't say anything. Odd that the Elves would make such a fuss over "Onanism," but wouldn't hesitate to boink another boy, despite the proscriptions in Scripture. Oh, well; boy would be boys. "Go hunting," I told them. "Burn off some of that energy." And they scampered off, whooping with excitement. "I better see squirrel on the dinner table tonight!" I called after them.

  I checked my Chamber and, yes, the bedding was mussed. But there were no telltale signs that the three had been "playing" in that way. That just means they were careful, I told myself sourly.

  But Calvin wasn't careful enough to keep me from catching him energetically comforting a lop-eared Sylvie named Trix a few weeks later. He was busy and she was delirious with pleasure, so I quietly withdrew and took my current assignment, a delightful Wolfin called Maple, elsewhere.

  The ass didn't bother cleaning up after himself that time. Later, I surveyed the mess he and his bunny-girl had left, then sat down at my desk and wrote him a note: You could have at least changed the bedding. I addressed it to Calvin Davinson, Elf Barracks, Pecan Grove, then flagged down one of the Cobber postmen and handed him the message along with an ica-cent for the return postage.

  An hour later, one of my little green grandsons handed me a sealed envelope addressed to Fell Tobias, Big Kahuna, and then rode away on his coney. When I broke the seal and flipped it open, I saw that he'd recycled my message. Under my admonishment, he'd added, Into what? in his spiky handwriting. The cheeky brat! I have to admit, though, that he was neater after that, right up until I had the carpenters erect his own Fathering Chamber.

  Tripp made the first entry into my brother's Fatherhood Ledger that winter, not long after the Wayko Campaign:

  Entry 1. Darius Davinson. Birthdate: December 12, AR 25. Mother: Felicia Rica. Race: Moggie.

  Until then, I didn't know the boy even had any catgirl lovers. But just like that, my little brother Calvin, just 16 by the old reckoning, became one of the Icarus Fathers. I couldn't believe I had to give the little snot a place at the council table.

  Despite my mother's outrage at his early start, that pretty much passed without much fuss. By then, we were knee-deep in dealing with an influx of immigrants from Tejarkán, and were in the midst of preparations for the next war — so there were far more important things to worry about.

  We even had some tame Alfas, if you can believe it! In fact, they and the other "attractors" — mostly Sirens, Succubi, Hinkypunks, Willowisps, and a few Angels — ended up contributing significantly to the campaign against the Tejarkanye… possibly more so than any other division of the Commonwealth Army. But more on that later.

  Meanwhile, Calvin himself attracted just about every woman not related to him, and I had to strictly warn him off my wives — and the Succubi off him. "He's so cute, I could just eat him up," S'linkitha admitted to me once, licking her lips. But she behaved, and he had his hands full anyway. We had other Succubi now, as well as the occasional one-offs who had made it here from other lands and were looking for fellowship. One in particular caught his eye.

  In mid-March AR 27, just before we finally had to deal with the damn Tejarkanye, Calvin and I were walking together toward Yorkshire Castle for dinner when we were suddenly enveloped in a flurry of white flakes. I held out my arm and watched as the delicate little jewels melted on my skin. "What the…? Why is it snowing in March in Tejas? What now?" I muttered.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw my brother's eyes widen comically, and then he was suddenly in motion, heading off at a sprint toward the neighborhood on the north wall we called Angelwood. I jogged after him as the snow continued to fall in thick sheets, mystifying the adults and delighting the children. We got little enough snow in winter.

  I eventually tracked him to a cabin with the door flung wide, where he sat holding a tiny pale child in his arms, cooing and stroking the baby's night-black hair as it frowned up at him, huge blue eyes blinking in disapproval. The midwife sat nearby, grinning, while the baby's mother lay sleeping, her big manga-eyes with their lush lashes closed, a smile on her tiny mouth — the first I'd ever seen on her.

  Her name was Miyako, and she was a Nipponese import who, due to her nature, rarely seemed completely happy. She also had rather cold skin, as I'd noticed when I'd unsuccessfully tried to impregnate her, but apparently she was warm enough to keep Calvin interested.

  Entry 10. Raven Davinson. Birthdate: March 16, AR 27. Mother: Miyako Sunakaya. Race: Sad Boy in Snow (?) (Mother is Sad Girl in Snow).

  The snow kept falling until it was two feet deep, and took three days to melt. And yes, there were numerous representations of that terrible monster, Fell Tobias, harassing innocent Cobber snowboys.

  But I digress.

  Chapter 9

  By mid-September AR 25, we were a month out from the attack on Wayko, and I was pleased by how well the preparations were going.

  My glassblowers were turning out marbles by the thousands; luckily, we had plenty of clean sand from the sandbars in the nearby Rio Serendip. My engineers, meanwhile, had been able to turn out new air rifles made mostly from gopherwood in bulk, and managed a handful of rifles using Dawn steel and luminium for their moving parts. Those versions were for the snipers, and threw .22 caliber Dawn steel bullets. The Imps and Dixies made do with their blades; no rifle their size was going to be able to do much damage against a Terran-sized target, but Gration and Icarus himself had proven the efficacy of the Hero Dixie Dawn blades when they saved us from the Sun.

  The land army was coming together, at about 500 strong, including our Terran men, Faunlets, Giantesses, Pookas of all types — and Tauras. The word had spread, and Tauras from 300 miles in every direction had trickled in to sign the Commonwealth Compact and to volunteer for the war. We even had a few from as far north as Kansaw.

  Every one of them was armed with at least one air rifle and knives or swords of luminium or Dawn steel… very few of which were even used against the Waykans, in the end. The army would have been larger, but we had decided to maintain a large home guard — and many of the women who might otherwise have volunteered were either pregnant or caring for infants, including all seven of my wives. Our Kappas stayed at home, since they needed to be near a source of water at all times.

  The aerial army was also doing quite well. The B
uzzard Riders were solidifying into a formidable force, led by grizzled Cobber veterans, while the Dixies, as exuberant as they were, had taken to close-order flying like they were born to it… which they were. Most not only carried Dawn blades, but they and the Riders would be dropping my Dad's gas bombs on the heads of the Waykan army, which was rumored to be about a thousand strong. While my land army was smaller, my aerial army was larger — at least in terms of number of individuals — and I figured that we'd have the upper hand with our chemical weapon.

  The gas weapon took the form of solid pellets that were water-activated, so we'd be dropping them as two-chambered grenades, with the chambers separated by a thin clay plate. When they hit the ground, the plate would break, the water and the pellets would mix, and the deadly vapor would pour out. Deadly to anyone who had eaten human meat within the past year or so, at least. To anyone else, it just smelled like burning tires.

  One thing Little Magic reminded us that we had to make absolutely sure of before we cleared our Pixies allies for combat was that they had to all be at least two years old. We were very firm about this, because thorough questioning have proved that none of the little ladies could remember their hosts, having been non-sentient at the time they emerged. A handful of younger Pixies had to be turned away, just in case; we told them it was because they were too young, and we wanted them to live a little before they endangered their lives. I assured them they could join up again for the next war. It wasn't their fault even if they had been incubated in a human, as they'd been brainless grubs at the time and hadn't known better.

  When I was convinced everything was well in hand, I made sure to spend special time with each of my wives. The fathering, at least on my part, was suspended until after the war was over. I made sure they knew that I loved them all, and that once the war was over, I would take time off from fathering for a while and just be a husband to them and a father to my boys, especially theirs. I also made arrangements to keep them happy, occupied, and well-protected while I was away.

  Little did I know that the seeds of my future unhappiness had already been planted, partly by my own hand.

  Most of my Paramours, especially the Succubi, had long since taken me up on my offer to allow them to comfort themselves with other men when I wasn't able to service them often enough, or when I was out town. Probably, they just wanted a little extra spice in their lives. They turned almost exclusively to the Elves, though Keenan Dree was popular with Montana and Freddy, and other Terran men sometimes joined them at their invitation.

  I ensured that it was discreet, because although I was literally the father of most of the newest generation of Icarus, people tend to doublethink their way into deciding that what's allowable for the gander isn't so kosher for the goose.

  Jenna in particular took to the idea, but I figured that was because it had been hers in the first place. Toméz's Brandyn seemed fond of her, and was around Yorkshire as often as I was, or so it seemed. He was a nice kid, and I often helped him with his Fatherhood Ledger so we could keep things straight. Aside from the Newdies and Imps, we'd recently added his new Moggie and Wolfin sons to the ledger.

  Other pending pregnancies included a Harpy (which surprised me, since his father usually got those), a couple of new Kappas, multiple Pookas, and, he admitted sheepishly, several Terrans. He was supposed to leave them to the Terran men, but the ladies just wouldn’t leave him alone. "Three of them had their way with me in the corn crib last week!" he said, wide-eyed.

  "Are you complaining or bragging?" I asked with a mock scowl.

  I loved Brandyn like a son and still do, but love can hurt you worse than anything in the universe.

  ❖

  Meanwhile, Old-Father Trent continued to work on our weapon against the Scholars. When we felt my father's invention was ready, we met with our senior advisers in the designated conference room. Those advisers included all seven of my Paramours, Keenan Dree, the Faunlet Puck, and all our military leaders, who included most of the Fathers of Icarus Township.

  My First Clutch was there. So was Calvin. Acheron was also present, idly setting little pieces of wood on fire with his fingers and blowing them out.

  After we told them the name and nature of our new weapon, which we had christened Cyclone-B, every one of the Pixies, Elves, and all my wives stared at us, breathlessly, almost in horror. Even the normally unflappable Acheron.

  Finally, Montana asked in a very, very faint voice, "Um, Trent? Why that particular name?"

  He shrugged. "It's a derivative of the Cyclone-brand pesticide used before the Day of Ruin on our Earth. That's the 'B' part."

  Montana look like she might faint. Slinky took up the gauntlet. "Doesn't that name… ring any bells? Doesn't it bother you at all?"

  Dad said, "Nope. Why should it?"

  "But you're Jewish."

  "So? What does that have to do with anything?"

  The women, Pixies, and Elves looked around at each other in horrified realization, and it was only when a deeply confused Keenan asked, "What's going on?" that we discovered a very significant and singular difference between our two worldlines.

  Both had experienced the devastating, worldwide war in the early 1900s that we all called the Great War; but in my worldline, that conflict had ended in November 1918. In the U.S.A. worldline, they thought it had ended then, before several madmen got together and started up a second chapter in 1937. It ended for good in 1946, when England (their Angleland) and the USA jointly developed the atomic bomb — which existed only in science fiction in my world — and destroyed both Berlyn and Tokio.

  The new races, those who had Stepped Through and remembered it from their history, had called the second chapter World War II. But even they realized it was really a continuation of The Great War.

  The most charismatic of the madmen who had stirred the embers of world war until they flared again was called Adolph Heidler, pronounced 'Hidler' in Englits (the USA worldline's name for Anglic). But he went by Schicklgruber, his illegitimate father's birth name. In time, he orchestrated the mass murder of tens of millions of civilians, including nearly all the Jews in Europe and the Russias, most often in gas chambers.

  The gas his minions had used to murder most of those Jews and other so-called undesirables had been a pesticide called Zyklon-D. We all found that coincidence shocking, but those of us from the CSA worldline agreed that it was just a coincidence.

  "Schicklgruber," Dad mused. "I only ever heard of one Schicklgruber, and he was kind of a celebrity. He got famous for his really nice architectural drawings and paintings of buildings, but he got rich painting these twee little collectible plates featuring farm scenes and fat-faced kiddies. Went by Addie Schicklgruber, as I recall. Kindly old guy with a toothbrush mustache."

  Montana just laid her head on her arms at the table, and mumbled, "Our Schicklgruber was famous for his toothbrush mustache. He got rather rudely rejected when he applied to art school. And he wasn't kindly in the least. Maybe if they'd just let him paint…"

  All the others just sat there without saying a word, but Freddie, my tough little Freddie, was crying openly. Their second war must've been complete hell on Earth to still affect them after so long. She told me later that it was the most significant stimulus for the creation of the Union of Nations, a worldwide government that ensured such genocide never happened again.

  Without further discussion, I adjourned the meeting. We could discuss our plans to kill the Waykans en masse later, after everyone had recovered. I wasn't so sure I could still allow it to be done that way... Yet it was the only way we could come up with in the brief time we had that would ensure that all the Scholars died, while their children survived — at least without crippling or wiping out our little army.

  It wasn't a method we would use again, except against other cannibals. I had no compunction about using it against cannibals or suspected cannibals, since it was harmless to those who had never eaten human flesh. I even made it a policy to test each new potenti
al citizen with it. We caught a few spies and undesirables that way, sadly.

  But ultimately, after what happened at Wayko, we decided we'd never use another chemical agent against a foe. The Tejarkanye and others we battled army-to-army.

  Chapter 10

  Our army had grown to 1,600 before we began marching on Wayko in late September. Among us were now a platoon of allied Taura, four hundred fierce Pixies, a company of deadly Olbytla, a half-dozen Succubi, all the Hob Pyskeen, three Angels, and six Centaurs. We also had a pair of very tall, very hirsute Sasqua, a new Kushtaka, and several other one-offs from far lands, including an exceptionally frightening Werewolf (think a large Wolfin who could shift back to Terran form at will), and a thin young woman with lichen-gray skin from Angleland who called herself a Cailleach. She claims she traveled to America though shadow. I believe her. She's the best scout we've ever had.

  We also brought along medics Serafina McGriff and her colleague, Angelica Taggart; our third Red Cap, Charla Donald, remained at home.