by John Goode
“SO EXPLAIN it to me,” Kane said after Wanda had brought them their food.
Hawk scrutinized the plate in front of him with intensity. “There is a process that is complicated and involved,” he said, not looking up. “These are not eggs,” he added, looking back at Kane.
“Vegan. Egg substitute.” Which was an explanation that did nothing to ease Hawk’s mistrust of the food. “So try to summarize it, what’s it consist of?”
The prince picked at the odd yellow substance with his fork as he explained. “It starts with the symmetry of facial features. The most attractive people have virtually identical placement of features on either side of their face.” He looked up again. “How do you substitute an egg?”
“I never asked,” Kane answered honestly. “So then it is all about looks?”
Hawk looked at the rack of condiments that sat on the table. With great deliberation he picked up the saltshaker and tried to smell its contents. “No. The process begins with looks. The Rite of Ascension is grueling, physical perfection is but one of the qualifications. Not many can survive it. This is like salt, correct?”
Kane nodded. “It is salt. So then what, there is a talent and swimsuit competition too?”
Hawk looked up, confused. “Swimsuit? What are you talking about? And this is not salt. It is smaller and smells of chemicals.”
Kane took the shaker and smelled it himself. “I don’t smell anything.” He sprinkled some on his hand and licked it. “It’s salt.”
“There is no such thing as processed salt in Faerth,” Ruber explained in the human’s ear. “When used, it is sea salt and is pure.”
“Okay then, this isn’t your salt,” Kane said, putting it down. He looked at the rack as well and grabbed the ketchup bottle. “Here, taste this,” he said, handing it over.
Hawk opened the bottle and poked a finger inside and tasted it carefully. His eyes grew wide as he smiled. “What is this?”
“Um… sugared tomatoes, I think,” Kane answered, bemused to see anyone that excited by ketchup. “So, what else then?”
Hawk practically drowned the egg substitute in a pool of ketchup and began to scoop forkfuls into his mouth. Through bites he said, “There are tests of wisdom, purity, and valor that must be passed, and then there is the challenge of mortality.”
Kane began to choke on his food. He swallowed a huge gulp of water as he struggled to breathe again. In a wetly exasperated voice he asked, “Mortality? They try to kill them?”
Hawk shook his head no and looked over at the mustard bottle. “Not try, they do kill candidates. Is the yellow as good?”
“They kill you?” Kane exploded.
Hawk grabbed the bottle and sniffed it. “Yes, to see how you handle your last moments. Anyone who fears death is obviously not fit to rule.” He dabbed a drop of mustard on his tongue and reared back in surprise. “That is not as good!” he said, grabbing his own water.
“They kill you?” Kane asked again, this time in utter and complete disbelief.
Hawk put the mustard down and pushed it away. “It is the final test. The Casters stop your heart. If you are filled with fear, then the spell is permanent, if you are accepting, you come back. What does BBQ stand for?”
Kane pushed it over to him. “You’ll like it. But if you know you are coming back, why be afraid?”
Hawk sniffed the new bottle. “Because there is no certainty; there is always room for error when The Arts are concerned.” He tasted the sauce and obviously loved it as he poured a good helping over the ketchup. “It’s like the catch hup but with bite!” he exclaimed.
“So then you don’t know if you will actually die?”
Hawk said with a full mouth, “No one knows that, hence the test.”
Kane realized he had lost his appetite and pushed his plate away.
“You going to finish that?” Hawk asked hopefully.
Kane said nothing as he watched Hawk consume both breakfasts.
ON THE outskirts of town, where the weeds grew tall and wild, a foul wind swirled and snapped at old leaves and pieces of trash. The storm had receded, leaving overcast skies and a damp Athens in its wake. However, the tension that had accompanied the earlier weather hadn’t disappeared. It seemed as if the weather had paused, taking a deep breath before its next stretch of explosive behavior. Mindlessly, the wind blew, and tall reeds bent aside, exposing a circle of grass that had been burned away and left behind charred earth.
This was the odd moment, between storm and sunlight, an artificial twilight between darkness and sun that was unsettled enough for magic to mold it to its bidding.
Though there was not a person left alive on the planet able to detect it, the area was saturated with arcane energies, remains left by Hawk and Spike’s cross over. Intricate designs had been burned into the stems of grass and reed when they arrived. However, the detail had been washed away by the rain.
If there had been anyone present in the area, they would have seen new markings burning themselves into the ground. Steam rose from the damp grass before it was superheated and scorched as if by enormous heat.
A slow circle appeared, drawn out in ash and burned debris, looking exactly as if someone stood in the center, drawing a sigil with the point of a superheated stick. When the circle was completed, smaller, more detailed runes burnt themselves into the center. A brief pause followed the last stroke to the last rune, and the air itself began to shimmer with heat. A silent burst of light exploded silently from nowhere, and where there had been nothing but an empty field, there now stood three humanoid forms clad in dark leather armor.
Their faces were sharp featured, eyebrows and ears drawn upward to a point, the first indication they were in no way human. The second would be the stark whiteness of their hair in comparison to the cobalt-navy blue hue of their skin. When the clouds closed up and the sun was concealed, their skin looked more black than blue. However, no one seeing them would be taken in for a second. They each possessed two blades sheathed at their sides. Additionally, each possessed numerous smaller weapons hidden in various pockets in their clothing. The hidden armament was visible only briefly while they checked to ensure that everything had survived the cross over.
The tallest one stood in the center of the circle and surveyed their surroundings with unbridled disgust. In a language not heard on the world in over a thousand years he said to the others, “It stinks here, that will make tracking harder.”
The one on his right seemed to chuckle, if that was what the clipped sound was meant to be. “Why bother? We know where the whelp is, we flush him out and kill him.”
The leader shot his subordinate a withering glare. “Because there are about two hundred and sixty-two different accords saying we shouldn’t even be here much less taking offensive action.” He was gratified to see the lesser man look away in shame. “No, this is not a simple job. We are to retrieve Prince Hawk without raising suspicion or revealing our presence.”
“Retrieve or kill?” the younger man asked.
The leader ignored the question since he wasn’t sure what the answer was himself.
“If the prince refuses to hand it over?” his Second asked the leader.
“I am not convinced the boy needs to die yet,” he answered after brief thought.
“And the Changeling?” the other man asked in a voice barely above a whisper.
The leader shrugged indifferently. “If he interferes we can kill him. We need a base of operations and then we need to find Spike, in that order.” Both men nodded as they digested their orders.
Without another word, but clearly with a purpose, acting as a unit, they made for Athens, Iowa.
“SO THEN it isn’t all about looks,” I asked, after watching Hawk devour both plates along with four slices of toast and a bowl of fruit.
“Not all, but the better looking one is the better chance they have of being chosen for the ascension. Therefore, the better looking you are, the more status you possess.”
I was still
fuzzy on the specifics. “But why would looks even enter into it?”
Hawk shrugged. “The vessel of ascension has always been those that were the most comely. If there was a reason, it has been lost in time. Now it is a matter of tradition.”
He answered so matter-of-factly that it sounded almost normal. There was much more to it than just looks, but I couldn’t grasp it. “It sounds complicated.” I had to admit.
He nodded, and I tried not to get lost in the way his bangs moved and covered his eyes. “What is your system based on? Money? Financial security? The professor at your academy didn’t get around to explaining that yet.”
“Um… we vote. I mean… well….” And I hated the words as I said them. “It’s based on popularity.”
I saw Hawk choke slightly on his water as he reacted to my explanation. “Popularity? I don’t understand, you mean popular based on the most qualified, yes?”
I shook my head and tried not to think of the Governator. “No, just popular.”
He rolled his eyes as he finished his drink. “And our way is shallow.”
“He took that one, too, I believe,” Ruber said as I tried not to complain out loud.
Chapter Thirteen
THE ELDERLY human opened her door.
She barely had time to react to the three dark elves on her doorstep before the smallest of the three reached forward and snapped her neck. She didn’t even have time to make a sound. Acerbus killed her in one movement.
“What are you doing!” Ater demanded, his furious tone freezing Acerbus in place.
“Eliminating the witness?” the Third answered, obvious fear lacing his voice.
“She is—was—useless!” Ater answered, kicking the man to accentuate his point. “Why would you even bother?” The youngest of their team had no answer as Ater snarled, “You are supposed to be one of the most fearsome killers in the nine realms! Are you telling me this human was a threat?” Of course, Acerbus had no answer. “We kill because we are ordered or are threatened. Explain to me what category she fell into?”
A hand clamped on his shoulder, the voice of his Second barely audible behind him. “Composure. You’re showing emotion.”
Ater knew his old friend was right and forced his emotions down. He had been a hired killer for almost four centuries, and this was only the fourth time he had ever cracked like this on a job. He took several seconds to compose himself before addressing the youngest of their party. “We are violating nearly every single accord in existence just by being here. By simply breathing this air we can be put to death,” he explained in a patient voice. “Murdering innocents is not going to make our job any easier.”
Acerbus rose to his feet slowly. He was unsure if these mood swings were normal for his new squad leader, but he did know he didn’t like it. “Apologies, First,” he offered weakly. “I assumed this was a standard mission.”
“This is anything but,” Ater countered, stepping over the human corpse as he entered the poor excuse of a house. “Dispose of that before it starts to smell and draws attention.” Nose wrinkling in disgust at the dirt and the smells, he looked around the small house they had found on the outskirts of town.
The other two elves dragged the body into the house and closed the door behind them.
The house was claustrophobically small, but the hovel was still serviceable. Using it as a base, they could scout the town and learn the lay of the land. From here they could find the shape shifter and, through him, locate the prince.
The box in the corner made an annoying sound while strange images danced across—no, Ater realized, just under, its surface. All three elves stared at it, confused, their almond-shaped eyes unblinking. Music streamed out as a couple danced, and Ater saw Acerbus begin to sway in place. It was always like this with the younger ones. Those that were less than a century old or simply not trained would fall into a stupor in the face of Music, melodies making them almost zombies while they were played.
“I am tempted to let him stand there until he starves,” Ater said to Pullus, the slightest tinge of amusement in his voice.
“It would make the rest of the mission a great deal quieter,” the Second answered.
They both laughed as they watched the young elf drool with his mouth open. Ater sighed as he took a step toward the magic box. “There are times I miss being that young.” The First drew his sword and, his motion a blur of speed, sliced the television in half. Sparks flew as glass exploded across the room. Acerbus flinched as the speaker squealed in complaint before dying completely. He shook his head, not sure how much time had passed.
Ater sheathed his sword and glared back at his Third. “The human isn’t going to bury herself!”
He was gratified to see him jump into action instantly.
AFTER I paid for breakfast, we began to walk the streets of Athens.
The streets were still damp. The storm had receded for a while, but the air smelled of damp concrete, and the streets ran slick with watery oil washed out by the rain. In the sunlight, the wetter spots were almost iridescent.
Hawk seemed fascinated by the effect and wanted to know the cause. “Oil,” I explained, trying not to be depressed that even in Hippieville we still suffered from pollution. “The cars—you know what a car is right?”
He gave me a look. “The clockwork carriages? I am not a child,” he scoffed, although his voice held no sarcasm.
“So you have cars in your world?” I asked with a heavy dose of skepticism.
“They are not common, but there are certain beings that make such contraptions. There are tinkerers in Evna that make much more complicated devices than your kars,” he boasted, his accent making the word cars seem foreign.
“Cars,” I corrected him, and saw him repeat the word a few times under his breath. “Okay, so the cars use oil, and some of the oil ends up on the road. The water brings it to the surface of the pavement during wet weather. Together they make that effect.” I pointed to a puddle of rainbow-jeweled water.
He smiled and nodded. “You mean the London effect.”
I stopped. “London? As in the city?”
He stopped and looked back at me. “No, the London effect, where two objects that do not fit together are forced toward each other, producing an unexpected outcome.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”
He looked up as he tried to find the right words to explain. “When two things, like—Ruber, some assistance.”
Ruber answered immediately. “Oil and water.”
Hawk nodded. “Exactly. Like oil and water, or smoke and spirits. When the two are put together, they do not mix but instead produce an unexpected outcome.”
“Smoke and….” I started to ask. And then thought better of it. “Never mind. But yes, oil and water is what is causing that iridescence.”
“It’s beautiful,” he said, crouching down and touching the water as it rushed toward the gutter.
“It’s really just pollution.” He looked back in confusion, obviously not knowing the word. “Um, trash? Unclean residue?” Damn, I’d never had to think of what pollution meant before.
He looked back at the road and then to me with a huge smile. “Regardless of its origin, it is beautiful.” After a second he added, “Like you.”
I blushed as I tried not to think hard on the fact that he just compared me to pollution.
He stood up and wiped his hands off on his pants. “So you must have more questions. Let’s hear them.”
We began walking again, side by side, a little closer than two guys normally walked. “Why did you guys come here, of all places?”
“You mean the town?” he asked. I nodded, not sure what else he could be talking about. “To be honest, we didn’t even know there was a town here, we just knew this was one of the few places of facilitation left on your world. The fact that Athens was here was, I assumed, providence.”
“I thought you said Avalon was the only facilitate place here.”
He smiled, and I knew I had obviously butchered the word. “There are two types of facilitation: bound and unbound. When the world is bound, transition requires no more effort than crossing a room. There is no magic or spell needed. To move to a world that has been abandoned or to a place without a facilitation point takes a bit more effort.” The nonchalance he showed when he spoke about walking between worlds transfixed me. “You can move during the Blue hour, which is the safe way, or you can rip a hole through, but only at thin spots between the worlds.”
“Athens is a thin spot then?” I asked, wondering what thin meant.
He nodded as we kept walking. “The area around it is. It is one of the few places on your world where magic still exists. A minor amount but it is here, nonetheless. At first I assumed it is a convergence of ley lines, but the fact that your town is built almost on top of it makes me wonder.”
I stopped again. “There’s magic in Athens?” I asked.
He paused as well. “Of course, did you think I could perform combat magic without it?”
He told me that as if he was asking how could you swim without water, yet I still had no clue what he meant. “There’s no magic in Athens; it’s just weird,” I insisted.
His smile would have been so annoying on anyone else, all arrogant and condescending, but instead he just came off as amused. “So you’re an expert on magic now?”
“No! I am just saying I’ve lived here all my life and never saw anything magical.”
“And if you saw it, would you know what it looks like?” he asked good-naturedly.
I made a face and began walking again. “Shut up.”
He laughed and pulled me back by my arm. I spun around in surprise as he gentled me into an embrace. “You are irresistible when you’re angry,” he said, his nose almost touching mine.
“We’re on the street,” I said in a whisper.
“And?”
“People can see us?” I protested.
His smile grew wider as he said, “Let them see, jealousy is good for the soul.”