by John Goode
And that was the kicker. I did want things to go back to the way they were. Sure, I loved Hawk and all that, but this life, hopping from world to world always battling, running for my life? The whole thing was exhausting; and it wasn’t over. I could already hear Hawk’s thoughts. His mother, once she wasn’t a harp anymore, would be the first person in line to lead an army to Earth to take The Tree back by force. Which would mean another year of trying to stop her, another year away from Hawk while he took control of Arcadia.
And if all of that sounds overwhelming to read, think of how it would feel if it was your future.
I’ll admit, Glinda had given a good speech. An hour ago it might have worked on me; shoot, even a half hour ago it would have. Right up to the point where I touched my mom’s tree it would have worked because, before that instant, all I wanted to do was throw myself under the covers and wait until all of the life I’d been living… the life we’d been living passed by. But I had touched the tree and heard my mom’s message, so I knew what Glinda here didn’t.
I knew the future.
“You’re wrong,” I said after a few seconds of contemplation. “About humans, you’re wrong.”
She sighed and shook her head slightly. “I’m not and you know it. Now step aside.”
“No.”
A look of complete rage passed over her features, and I knew the time for talking nicely was over. “I tried. I tried to reason with you, boy, but like every other human I have ever met, you fail to see the big picture. You will either move aside or take back your power, effectively killing The Tree. Either way I get what I want.”
“And how are you going to make me do that?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Because if you don’t, you’re going to stand there and see your precious town be torn apart.” She used the index fingers of both hands to scribe three narrow ovals in the air above and in front of her. As soon as her fingers touched at the bottom of the third oval, three puke-green portals appeared. They hovered silently for a second before their surfaces broke, releasing wave after wave of darkened creatures that looked like a cockroach would look after a facehugger from Aliens got hold of one. They were covered in a dark slime that turned the grass brown when the creatures slithered over it. They just exploded outward, thousands, maybe millions of them, all intent on eating my town alive. These were Nobodies, creatures of the Nothing. Their sole purpose was to consume.
It would have been terrifying if I hadn’t already seen Glinda conjure them in my mom’s vision.
“You’re wrong about humans,” I repeated, ignoring the tsunami of little shadow munchers descending on Athens. “You think that, deep down, humans are evil and selfish, but that’s not true. What you’re seeing is fear. Fear of the unknown, of not being able to affect the things happening to them, so they end up making horrible choices. But no one is born that way. They end up that way because of circumstances.”
“Your town is about to die,” she said, sounding bored.
“See, if you go deeper than that, I mean down to where it really counts, all of us just want to be one thing when we grow up.” She arched an eyebrow in question. “We all want to be heroes. And too few of us are ever given the choice.”
The first wave of power came rushing out from under me, spreading across the town like a supernova.
“What have you done?” she asked, her voice laced with dread.
“I did what you would never do, what Titania would never do. I did what no one who possessed the seed ever did.” I paused for effect as I waited for the power to take hold. “I shared it. With everyone.”
And that was when things got interesting.
JENNIFER ADAMS owned Dr. Isley’s Plant Emporium; she was a druid even though she had no idea.
Plants had been her passion since she had been a little girl. After she graduated from UCLA with a master’s in biology and botany, she devoted her life to protecting flora no matter where it was. She arrived in Athens to research the healing properties of certain mushrooms that grew around the town. After her initial study, Jennifer Adams moved there permanently.
Her shop was filled with plants that loved her dearly even if she couldn’t hear them. When she watered them, she sang an aimless little song that always entered her head and kept her occupied as she went from bloom to bloom, giving each plant love and water. Jennifer didn’t know she was singing a theme from the Liano, the Song of Life and that the plants around her loved her all the more for it.
Jennifer Adams knew none of this: she thought herself a normal, middle-aged woman who lived in a small town in the middle of nowhere. So when chaos erupted around her in Athens, she hid in her store and waited for it to pass. For a while the plan seemed to be working, and by midday the danger seemed to have left as suddenly as it had arrived. She unlocked the door to her shop and stepped out into the street to survey the damage.
Which was when the Nobodies flooded down the street.
There were thousands of them, all scrambling as one entity looking like a massive serpent made up of squirming shadows. Blind terror seized her mind for a moment, and then something passed through her as it raced outward from the park. Jennifer paused, the fear beginning to recede as a new feeling took its place. She saw a couple across the street emerging from the hardware store. The Nobodies took a wide turn right toward them, ready to consume them as they had everything else in their path.
Jennifer Adams was not afraid anymore; she was angry, extremely angry.
Holding one hand out, she shouted a sharp, “Bacainn!” at the Nobodies. A wall of thorns shot up from the asphalt, breaking the sidewalk like paper, forming a curved wall around the terrified couple. The Nobodies hit the thorns at full force, expecting the barrier to fall as everything else in the town had before them.
Instead some were shattered against the wall as others were repelled away from it. This was magic, old magic, and they wanted to consume its source. Their senses reached out and saw the woman standing across from them empowering the spell. Like a bolt of black lightning, they leapt toward her, intent on leaving nothing but a gleaming pile of bones behind where she had once stood.
A massive fist of roots and bark slammed down directly in the center of them. The Nobodies exploded into separate groups again as the gigantic Treant kept swinging at the mass of black. Jennifer looked mildly surprised by the animate tree defending her until it spoke to her. And for the first time in her forty-seven years, she heard what the plants had been saying to her for her entire life, what they and their ancestors had said to her from her beginnings.
“We love you.”
The Treant continued to slam the Nobodies into paste. As for Jennifer, she raced to the couple and urged them to return to the store and to stay off the street.
Jennifer Adams was no longer afraid. She was furious about the things that had attacked her town. And she was going to do something about it.
DANIEL PARSON, who worked at the local coffee shop, was a medieval weapons enthusiast who happened to be a Blade Dancer but had no idea he was.
Since he had been a young boy, Daniel had loved swords and shields and was obsessed by anything to do with knights and warriors. Since there was not a real call for a blacksmith in the modern world, he paid his bills by serving caffeinated drinks to the townsfolk while making his own weapons with a real anvil in the back of his house and selling them during the Renaissance Fair. He had no idea his weapons were perfectly made and were graced with a part of himself.
He loved each and every one and the thought of selling his favorites made him cringe. Instead, he displayed them in his house and worked at the coffee shop. He sometimes felt like his life had no direction. And sometimes he felt like it did, and that he was waiting for something to point the way.
When the town was attacked, Daniel locked himself in his house and tried to call the local police only to find the phone lines cut. Strange creatures passed his front window, and stark terror kept him huddling in his house, won
dering if this was when he was going to die.
When the quiet came, he was distrusting of it. Something was not right.
Grabbing his favorite long sword, he walked out into his front yard to see if the coast was clear when a pack of Nobodies came charging down the street. He watched as whole cars were engulfed and destroyed by the swarm of insect-like things heading toward him. His mind locked up, the flight-or-fight mechanism in his brain flooding his thoughts with contradictory impulses, freezing him in place. The long sword quivered in his hands, and he gripped it, but lightly, feeling the balance for the hundredth time since he’d made it, knowing the blade knew him.
And then something else passed over him as it flowed and eddied through the town.
Daniel Parson was no longer afraid.
The Nobodies fixated on the lone human in the street. Living flesh drew them in like a moth to flame. He possessed something they wanted. Something deep inside of him. Something like his soul. Instead of running, Daniel brought his blade up. A trail of light followed the motion of the blade, and, in that second, he knew all the way to his heart and soul that his weapons were more than just pieces of metal.
They were part of him.
The Nobodies crashed down on him, and his first slice cut through the center mass, throwing creatures to both sides of the street like shavings from a wood chipper. The power around the sword repelled them and wreaked mortal damage on the ones he struck. With a thought he called another sword from his house. It came flying out toward him, broken window in its wake.
With both weapons in hand, he began to do battle to a rhythm only he could hear.
Each blade trailed a different-color light. When the lights intersected they would explode with enough force to throw the Nobodies as far as a block away. The creatures were confused; they swarmed around him, trying again and again to get past his guard, but it wasn’t happening. Everywhere a Nobody attempted to break through or slide under or over or around Daniel’s defense, one of his swords was there to answer. More and more Nobodies raced at him, determined to take down whatever this thing was.
Daniel Parsons was no longer afraid; he was determined. Determined to save his town.
ALL OVER Athens people were waking up to the fact they were more than they thought. Their secret Selves, the part they dreamed about in their souls, were awakened and given power. Power no human had felt in over two thousand years. People drawn to Wiccan mythology were waking up to find they were actual witches, people who were obsessed over Norse mythology were finding they were Runic Casters, and people who were convinced their pets had personalities and could understand them were realizing they were beast masters.
One by one their True Selves woke up, and they came to defend the town. One by one they became the person they never knew they were; they become heroes, and the Nobodies were repelled.
“YOU DID what?”
So this is what Glinda looked like when she was really pissed? Her eyes were lit with a red, flickering inner glow, a raging fire, and the scowl on her face made Demain look like Doris Day.
“I shared the power. I gave it to the town.”
“Why would you do that?” She was beyond furious, and I wondered if she’d foam at the mouth and bite me. But it didn’t stop me from answering her.
“Because it’s the right thing to do.”
She raised her hands and screamed and the ground between her and me shot upward about four feet, throwing me on my ass pretty hard. “Power is not to be shared! It’s not to be passed out! It’s to be used carefully, to be hoarded. What kind of idiot are you?”
“An idiot who has friends,” Olim stated. She stepped forward, her hands glowing with power.
“Oh please,” Glinda sighed. She made a horizontal sweeping motion with the back of her right hand, aiming at both of her sisters. The belt that had fallen off Oberon flared with power and exploded. Both Olim and Demain were sent flying, both completely unconscious. “I tried to be cordial about this, but it doesn’t matter now. If I kill you before the seed takes hold, the effect is the same. It will wither and die.”
“Then it’s good you won’t kill him,” Hawk said, swinging Promise at her face with all his force. The edge of the blade cut her cheek and drew blood, but that was about it. The rest of it refused to kill and passed through her as if she were a ghost.
“Bored now,” she announced. Green lightning shot from the palm of her right hand, hurling Hawk to the ground, writhing in pain.
“No!” I roared, rushing at her. She raised her other hand and more lightning shot me.
“Yes,” she said calmly. She watched, expressionless, as we were both slowly electrocuted.
Which is a shitty way to die.
HORRIFIED, THEN enraged, the dark elf, Ater the Assassin, saw Hawk and Kane crash to the ground engulfed in the witch’s lightning, which cooked them slowly.
“Do something!” he yelled at Kor, charging toward Glinda with both knives out. Kor watched him throw both blades at the witch’s head, both killing blows from where he stood. They got within five feet of her and then slowed to a stop and hovered.
Glinda nodded, and they turned and raced back toward Ater at incredible speed. Only his quick reflexes saved him. He threw himself to the ground and called his weapons back to himself. The maneuver worked. The blades coasted to the ground and were still.
Drawing his bow, Kor let out a loud “Dissiper” and a magical bolt went flying toward Glinda.
The spell hit the barrier and flew back the way it had come, striking Kor’s bow dead center, shattering it into five pieces of useless wood.
Glinda began to laugh as smoke rose off Hawk and Kane.
Closing his eyes, Kor went to his knees and did the only thing he could do.
He prayed for Koran to help him.
Koran did.
A BOLT of eldritch energy struck the ground near Randy the Arbrever, completely destroying Inmediares’s concentration. She looked up with naked fury on her face, ready to destroy whatever new distraction faced her now.
And found herself in the presence of a God.
Now we can get into a discussion of Gods if you would like. When one describes a God, certain boxes must be checked off to make sure it is not just a powerful creature with delusions of grandeur. Let’s go through them, shall we?
One, they must have created life.
All elven life, wood elf, high elf, dark elf, any elf in existence was brought into being by this Being, so… check.
Two, it must wield unimaginable power.
The air around the being cracked with energy as our reality strained to hold his form in our level of existence.
Check.
And lastly, they must, in some way, answer and acknowledge the prayers of their people.
This being was here because Kor had called out to him.
Last check, so guess what?
He’s a God.
And not just any God, but Koran, the God of all Elves and their Father of Creation and Light. He stood nine feet tall and his form glowed with power. His face, which was perfect even by elven standards, had a neutral expression, but the coldness in his eyes made it clear to Inmediares that he was not in any way amused.
Kor looked up and felt his heart skip a beat as he looked into the eyes of his creator.
“You came.” Kor gulped.
“You called,” Koran said, holding out one hand.
Kor took it, slowly getting to his feet. “She… she is evil,” he said, pointing at Inmediares.
“Let’s see about that.” He turned toward Glinda. As he approached her, he glanced at Ater, who was getting up. The dark elf froze, half kneeling as he looked upon true divinity.
Koran nodded. “Ater.”
“You know my name?” The question slipped out before he could stop himself.
Koran gave him a warm smile. “I know all my children’s names.” And he continued walking toward Glinda.
Ater had never felt so saved in his life.
ONE SECOND Hawk and I were doing a pretty good impersonation of what KFC chicken goes through to become a family meal, and the next we’re being saved by the prettiest guy I had ever seen or imagined. I know that isn’t a great description, but I’m gonna be honest with you; it’s hard to retain what he looks like once I looked away. I mean, I remembered he was incredible and perfect, but the salient facts of his face slid out of my mind. I have a theory why.
It’s so we don’t go insane.
This guy was so perfect, so flawless that he was messing with my mind in a big way. I found myself looking away from him almost instantly until I realized I was bowing my head to do it. That was my first instinct, to just bow my head and not look directly at him. That’s when I knew he was a Being, one of my mother’s people, which pretty much made him a God. Note the big g there, an actual God, not someone on Star Trek playing one.
Just that knowledge seemed to help, and I looked up at him again. This time I could tell my Being brain was handling the visual side while my human brain looked away for a second. He was huge, like ten feet tall, but instead of him looking like a giant, everyone else looked small compared to him. It’s like when you have an action figure and you think, “This is badass, I love this guy!” Then your friend brings over a Barbie-sized version of the same guy. You don’t feel like his is giant sized, you just look at yours and feel like it’s smaller and nowhere as cool as it was ten minutes ago.
We were nowhere as cool as we were ten minutes ago.