by Martha Carr
“I don’t believe it. There’s always a way and I’m going to find it. You said it yourself that beings like me are rare and everything you know is from stories or myths or legends.”
“Pretty sure those are all fancy words for the same thing.” Jackson sat back down on the couch with a whomp.
Leira set her mouth in a determined line, pressing her lips together.
“Alright, fine. I recognize that look already. You want to look for some other way, fine. But, in the meantime I’m going after one of those artifacts. Might keep you from becoming one with the universe just long enough to pull off a Berens miracle.”
“Won’t be the first time.”
“I have just one small favor to ask. Don’t tell your mother about what happened here, okay?”
Leira let out a laugh and leaned over to pat her father on the back. “Now you sound like a normal Dad. Sure, we can let this one near death experience go. Of course, the troll might be a problem.”
Yumfuck looked up and let out a cackle. “I can be persuaded.”
“Don’t worry. He likes to be paid in doughnuts.”
CHAPTER SIX
Hagan stayed behind, cleaning up the pizza boxes and breaking down the tables. His mind was working overtime trying to figure out a way to explain the video to Rose. “Just the kind of thing they’d run on Access Hollywood for a hoot. She loves that show.” He paced around the table, taking a bite of cold pizza, chewing down hard on the mouthful, looking for a creative answer. He stopped and swallowed hard, giving a shrug. “On the other hand, this could be my excuse to finally tell her the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.” He shrugged, feeling a little relieved and took another bite of the pizza. “Even good cold. Hmmph. This could work.”
The doors to the warehouse burst open, the door slamming against the wall and ricocheting back toward General Anderson as he marched into the room, followed by his aides.
Hagan startled and quickly dropped the pizza slice he was holding and wiped his hands on the tablecloth, swallowing as he looked around for a napkin for his mouth. The alarms went off on the virtual screen warning of approaching visitors as Hagan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, fuck you too,” he muttered in the direction of the screen.
Alan Cohen brought up the rear, dressed in a plain blue windbreaker and looking grim. He made a point of not looking directly at Hagan.
“Sir! What can I do for you? Agent Berens isn’t here at the moment…”
“Here to see you, Agent Hagan.” The general walked to Hagan’s desk and carefully laid down his hat at one corner and sat in the chair.
I can actually feel my colon tightening, thought Hagan.
“I suppose you’ve seen the video?” The general spoke in clipped words that Hagan had seen him reserve for only the worst of occasions.
My balls are actually trying to rise out of the way. “Yes sir, I saw it.” Never complain, might have to explain… this time. “Some bullies were bothering the patrons and I didn’t see the girls with cell phones.”
“Whiskey Tango Foxtrot! That sounds like a long explanation for you fucked up!”
“That would neatly sum it up, sir.”
“You know, there’s only one really good reason why you’re not losing your job tonight. Care to know what that is?”
“Yes sir, I’m thinking I definitely would.” My pension would, Rose will be interested, my pride could use a good reason…
“You were the least of our damn exposure.” The general’s head shook with anger as he got up and marched toward the couches. Alan Cohen picked up the remote Lois and Patsy created for non-magical beings to turn on the screen and change the symbols to English. Images appeared lining up in neat squares along two rows of the troll riding a bull, the troll dancing on stage behind a guitar player, the troll dancing on someone’s shoulder wearing a cowboy hat and tiny red boots, the troll waving at the cameras in front of a nursing home. The last image was of a supersized troll roaring in the face of hairy, overgrown bullies in a dark bar with Hagan right behind him. Symbols scrolled along the bottom as Alan tried to find the right button to translate. Hagan glanced up and was able to read just enough. Well, fuck me. Some smartass thinks he’s got himself a story about a dangerous alien pet. Leira will want to see this.
“Someone put two and two together. Or five inches and eight feet.” Hagan scanned the images looking for a watermark to show who bought the images.
“I’ll save you the trouble. These were all compiled by a reporter at the Austin Statesman. His name is Blake Johnson and he’s doing his best to convince people that the tiny little dancing fellow and the large roaring fellow are the same magical beast.”
“That green hair is probably not helping.” Hagan brushed a few crumbs off his tie, straightening it out. Alan shook his head behind the general, waving his hand under his chin to stop talking.
Hagan smoothed his tie down over his belly and cleared his throat. “Sir, unless he can find the troll, he can’t prove anything. It’s too easy these days to create fake videos like that. Frankly, we can put out there that it’s all for some action adventure movie.”
The general let out a snort as Alan looked up at the steel rafters. Hagan held perfectly still. Shit! Did I just talk him into firing me anyway? I suppose I could go back to looking for killers. Maybe it’s time to retire…
“That’s not a half-assed idea at all, Hagan. Hell, we can probably get someone to actually make the damn movie! Say it was some skinny guy from Fresno in a blue bodysuit against a green screen that they squeezed into the videos.”
“What about all the witnesses, sir?” A blonde with a swishy ponytail neatly pulled back spoke up, arching an eyebrow as she stared at Hagan. Hagan frowned but said nothing, waiting for the verdict.
“We make sure the late night shows get the idea to do a few jokes about the wild Yeti seen on the city streets and his tiny pal.” Alan Cohen spoke up, doing his best to back up Hagan. “Or we get the tabloids at the checkout to write a story and compare it to the old blurry black and white photos. Come up with some catchy name. Say the yeti is the punk version updated.”
“In the meantime, maybe I could do a little old school detective work and keep an eye on this Johnson and warn Yum… uh, the troll to lay low.”
“And you’ll stay out of that bar and anything anywhere near that bar? That may sound like a question but I’m only looking for confirmation.”
Hagan felt a pang but nodded. “Yes sir, nowhere near. Never again.”
The general smiled for the first time, putting out his hand to Hagan. “Good. Glad we could resolve this. Good man. One of the things I really value about your team.”
“What’s that, sir?”
The general strode over to his hat and placed it back, firmly on his head. He looked up at Hagan. “You firmly believe in solutions. One way or another we can get the job done. Need more like you.”
“Yes sir, thank you sir. Uh, one more thing…”
The general stopped right at the door and turned around as Alan briefly shut his eyes and let out a sigh.
“I have a wife… her name is Rose…”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Turner Underwood slowly swept his arm across the fire pit, curling his fingers one at a time into a fist, raising a warm blue flame as the sun set over the lake. “Nothing like a Texas sunset. Going to be another cold night in Austin.” He looked at Correk warming his hands by the fire. “Do you need a cloak? I might have something from my travels that would fit you. These days I prefer the stylings on this planet, but I kept a lot of Oriceran clothes for nostalgia.”
“The fire is enough for me. You never talk about your days on Oriceran…” Correk let the thought go, waiting to see if Turner would pick it up and tell him more. Turner was never someone to push into corners he didn’t want to be in.
Turner leaned one hand on his cane and held his other near the fire, still watching the sunset as he let out a contented sigh. “Not much to tell, really.”
He let out a chuckle and rocked back on his heels, ducking his chin. “Not that there weren’t adventures or that things didn’t happen… The past is done and despite how much human beings like to dig it back up, the past cannot predict the future. It can only make it harder to clearly see the next path.”
“Do you ever miss your life there? Your friends or just that it’s easier to create magic there?”
Turner looked at Correk, studying him. “Ah, that is the crux of your inquiry. Can you be happy somewhere new and different? This is a land where you’re considered an alien even though Elves have been here for thousands of years.”
“In disguise. It’s not the same thing. Everything here is similar but not quite the same. There are the underground lands but they’re like a third world.”
Turner tapped the side of his nose, smiling at Correk. “It can be better if you can let go of the idea that you’re losing something and start looking at what you’re gaining. Just to be clear, I mean look beyond fast food and Dr. Pepper or giant warehouses full of things to buy.”
A smile grew on Correk’s face as he scuffed a boot along the slate. “Those are not bad things either.”
“If that’s where you set your bar then finding a lot more to love about this planet should be pretty easy. But there’s more to it than that. Human beings are really wonderful creations and this is their giant playground.” Turner held out his arms expansively. “Oricerans like to point out that humans don’t possess the ability to create magic on their own. Even that rare gene that sometimes heightens magic in our own kind doesn’t kick in until it’s mixed with magical blood. But I know that’s wrong. Their magic is in their ability to cooperate and work together. Amazing things happen when you least expect it and they can overcome foes, even magical ones.” He shook his head. “The trick is to get them to work together. But that does not really answer your question. Can you let go of Ossonia?”
Correk looked away, out over the lake, setting his jaw as he folded his arms across his chest. “Ossonia is not mine to let go or to keep. We have no promise to each other.”
“And then there’s Leira…”
“I was sent here to guide and protect Leira as an assignment.”
“That young woman is a spitfire who runs toward danger the second anyone’s in trouble. And look out if it’s someone she cares about.” Turner shook his hand in the air. “Even without magic, Leira Berens could take down a city block if it meant protecting the innocent. Not too hard on the eyes either.”
Correk didn’t answer, keeping his thoughts to himself. Leira is in too much danger for me to think about anything else but how to protect her.
Turner stepped back toward one of the Adirondack chairs near the fire and slowly eased himself down, sending out a stream of light to scoot the chair underneath him. He sat back, letting out a relaxed sigh, settling the cane between his legs. “Given that Leira is hardwired to protect and serve, the best way you can do your assignment is to help Leira learn how to protect herself.”
Correk startled, glancing over at the old Elf to see if there were symbols running along his skin that would tell him if the old Fixer had learned how to read minds. There was nothing. “I would agree and I intend to complete my mission, come what may.”
The Fixer made a steeple with his fingers, resting his hands on his belly. “Yes, you’ve already proven that intention, above and beyond. Alright, we will put a pin in that idea for now and come back to it one day.” Turner Underwood chuckled. “That wasn’t a threat. There will come a day when you will have to choose to stay or go and not because you were told to be here. And it may come sooner than you think. I have a proposal for you. I am growing older and I need an apprentice.”
The hairs along Correk’s arms rose and tingled, glowing in the night as he felt a rush of energy suddenly pour through his body and the muscles in his arms tensed. He sensed what was coming with a mixture of amazement and dread.
“Correk, I want to hand the role of Fixer to you. To teach you all the magical secrets I’ve learned over the years and to share the tomes I keep in a very special library to watch over the Oricerans who choose to live on Earth.”
“I think the Gnomes would have something to say about you sharing valuable ancient books with me…”
“I spoke with the Gnomes already about the idea. Yes, it’s true. Your work here has seasoned you and you have become a trusted warrior. You chose someone else’s life over your own and yet, still survived it all. I don’t want an answer now. It’s a lifelong commitment and as an Elf that means hundreds of years. It will also answer your query about where you will plant your flag.”
“I need to focus on other things right now.”
“They’re one and the same. Don’t miss that point. If you accept, you will gain tools to better assist you in this assignment and when it’s done, branch out to watch over more Oricerans. Think of it! You’ll watch over the start of the opening of the gates after thousands of years. You’ll be a part of helping Oricerans come out of the closet, so to speak and integrate with all of mankind when magic returns.”
And give up on ever living on Oriceran again. The weight of what Turner was asking weighed on Correk and he stared into the distance at the moon, trying to picture the two moons of Oriceran and the reeds gently moving in time with Queen Saria’s voice. Perrom, my friend.
“I can't be everywhere, despite the legend of the Fixer,” said Turner. “And Leira needs one hundred percent focus. I need to become two… Think about whether or not you can step up?”
“Let me live with the idea for a while.” Correk felt the chill pass through him, making the bones that had healed from the last battle ache from the cold. He passed his hand over his head, pulling in the warmth from the blue fire around his body. “I am honored to be considered…”
"Keep in mind, it's a job, a big job… Some of the shit I have seen has turned my skin green and back again. It will not always feel like an honor and at times more of a duty. But if you accept, you will learn deeper layers of magic than most ever get to know. Only the Gnomes of Oriceran have as much knowledge and only the Fixer actually gets to put it into practice. Of course, that can be fun at times, as well. The Elven ladies love it." He let out a laugh and gave a wink.
Turner Underwood held out his arms and he quietly whispered into the night air. A ball of light whizzed out toward the lake, skipping across the top like a stone creating images of the lakes of Oriceran and the large silver and red dragons that lived in their depths.
“Think about it… but not too long. I will need to start training my replacement soon and not just anyone will be chosen to be the next Fixer.” Turner rested his hands back on his cane and smiled in the darkness. At least this part of the prophesy is coming true.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Has anyone seen the troll?” Mara looked around Leira’s small kitchen, listening for the sound of paper rustling or a foil wrapper being peeled off, or crunching and slurping. Nothing. It was quiet as Eireka and Leira looked back at her from the other side of the small table. “No one worried? He’s gone out for a constitutional. Nobody?”
“He can handle himself.” Eireka held her mother’s gaze.
“He’s proven that on more than one occasion. Besides, he’s been going out at every opportunity all along. I don’t pin him down to one location anymore.” Leira brushed her bangs off her forehead.
“That was before we knew about a reporter piecing the whole Yumfuck story together…”
“Quit changing the subject.” Eireka took a sip of the warm coffee, peering at her mother over the edge. “Start explaining.”
The silence returned to the room as Eireka and Leira sipped their coffee, patiently waiting out Mara. “You two would be great busting balls just by sitting there.”
No one answered her.
“Okay, fine… I’ll start. I did a horrible thing for all the right reasons. I knew what Jackson really was, and I mean that on a lot of different levels. Hell, I c
ould have lived with the idea that he was a scavenger.” Mara pointed her finger. “And you know that comes with a certain lifestyle of wandering and danger that was never going to change. That’s the life you would have had.”
“I ended up spending fifteen years in an asylum, instead.”
The color drained from Mara’s face. “Point taken. But, I also knew he was a Jaspar Elf and Jackson is the one who swore me to secrecy. We were old friends before you two met, Eireka. This aging thing on Oriceran… Technically, he’s a lot older than you are but…”
“Get on with the story, Nana.”
Mara arched an eyebrow and pressed her lips together momentarily. “You have got to be one helluva detective. Fine, I kept his secret because he asked me to… gave my word, no less! And then, he saw you.” Mara reached across the table and touched Eireka’s arm, a spark of energy passing between them. Eireka’s face softened but she said nothing.
“Well, that was it. Before you, Jackson was known for loving them and leaving in the middle of the night. He went out on scavenger hunts to get away from some angry Elven women as much as to find more treasure. But the look in his eyes when he was around you. I knew about the spark of humanity our family carried, of course I did. And Eireka, don’t act like you were completely clueless. Berens’ women have been able to weave magic like nobody’s business far too easily for you to not have an idea.”
“An idea, yes but you never talked about it and it only meant I could conjure up things more easily here on Earth. Hell, it wasn’t enough to even get me out of the psych ward.”
“Did you ever try to tell those doctors Mom wasn’t crazy?”
“That hurts that you’d even ask me that, but I get it… Many times, over and over again.” Mara grew angry at the memories. “I even went to Oriceran trying to get the Gnomes to help me with a spell to just have everyone forget my beautiful daughter had ever talked about Elves or a floating castle. Of course I did! But no one would listen. They said it would expose them all.”