by Scott Duff
It took a few minutes and when the Pact started translating for me, I came to realize that MacNamara wasn’t the Wylde Fae everyone thought him to be. He was one bad mamma jamma.
The fountain exploded with color for a brief instant, blinding everyone. Then MacNamara stood where the fountain once flowed, as tall as the Arena itself, with a hand out to the songstress, beckoning. He was smiling down at the elven woman and his silken clothes were strobing rapidly as she sang. He shrunk down to his normal height as he moved in close, hanging in space with the ivory elf’s hand in his. He turned her hand delicately in his and kissed her lightly on the wrist. As he pulled away, she disappeared, popping like a soap bubble in a bathtub. You could hear a pin drop in the Arena at that moment, it was so quiet.
The tiered structure reappeared abruptly beneath his feet. On each corner stood identical elves in pale blue tuxedo with fiery orange pinstripes. Each elf moved and spoke in unison.
“Welcome to the Games,” the elves said.
The roar and applause were overwhelming. MacNamara let the ovation go for over ten minutes before quieting it.
“There have been two occurrences of interest that have led to changes in this week’s events. The first is the most grievous: someone broke my peace-bond. As a result, the crossroads contests are disallowed for the rest of the games. While the matter was dealt with most adroitly by the offended party, the message must be sent to all that my word must not be broken. Any further breach will be dealt with by my Wardens immediately and severely.”
The Arena’s perspective magic made it feel like he was talking directly to me. I glanced over at Peter and it looked like MacNamara was having the same affect. Peter was rapidly becoming my yardstick to measure any responses on.
“And secondly, the Queens of Faery have requested a boon that I have decided to grant,” MacNamara sat back languidly, a throne of pure white power rising up to meet him then slide casually back in the circular Arena. “Ladies, if you please?”
Two spots of light shined suddenly, equidistant from each other and MacNamara. One, bright orange, burst upward in a fiery column of sunlight. When it reached MacNamara’s height, it changed, forming a tall, elegant woman, burning and passionate. The other spot was black, but shot upward in solid ice like a tooth piercing the earth. Atop the stalagmite, an icy blackness shifted in space hardening into a woman of equal beauty. Staggering beauty, both of them.
Their magic pulsed through the Arena. Both of them at once. It was highly erotic. Feeling them search and move through the world around them, watching their bodies shift as they pushed deeper and deeper, both enticed and scared me. The hip movements alone were intoxicating. Kieran tapped my hand to pull my attention away and I wiped at my mouth in case the drool I felt wasn’t imaginary. He reached over the table and tapped Peter on the shoulder. Peter turned around and smiled at us wryly. His eyes had a red sheen to them that made him look… well, demonic. I jumped and he laughed.
“Sorry,” he said. “It helps to block the fascination of the Fae.” He was still grinning at me, evilly. Teasing me. All right. Your time will come.
Right now, I once again had to do something I didn’t particularly want to do. Fascination or not, I had to look at the Faery Queens like I looked at MacNamara. I didn’t want to do this. They both looked so striking up there as they cast the first loop of their seeking. This was the timid one, the “we know you’re out there” push, but I didn’t feel singled out. Maybe it was some other Faery treasure.
I picked the Winter Queen first. She stood, slowly turning to survey the gathered crowd, her power seeking beyond the Arena walls into the tent village beyond. Her features were slightly round, giving her face a serene look her canny eyes belied. Her skin was porcelain white, her lips moonlight gray, and her eyes, like MacNamara, were two colors: violet rimmed in silver. Below the surface was a frozen lake of power, immense power held in check by pure determination and will. Horrifying. Very much like MacNamara, the expansive vista of her aura was enough to make any man freeze in sublime terror at the heights and depths. This was the feeling of being a mote in God’s eye, but this being wasn’t God—her equal wasn’t that far away, physically speaking.
I pulled away from her to consider the Summer Queen. As she stood on her column of sunlight and pushed her will out over the audience, the Summer Queen of the Sidhe appeared bathed in glorious light, exuding femininity and sexuality by swaying her bosom and hips suggestively. Kieran had gotten me past the fascination level, but I still had a few thoughts about that before I dove into her farther. I didn’t get far before hitting flame. But I was expecting it and kept going deeper. I started to understand her energy flows. They were very complicated people, even for elves.
I wanted to see how her power worked and how she did what she did. My timing couldn’t have been better as they both began gathering power and laying the groundwork for the second level of their seeking. This one should be much more powerful and demanding. I watched as they pulled great handfuls of power from the air and formed it into the stuff their minds could use. Their wills used this stuff, this magic to write onto the world, changing it to what they wanted.
The way they used their magic was interesting, too. It doesn’t hit you, bang. It insinuates into the fiber of your being and then hits you, bang! Their spell was based on themselves. They were searching for a thing. They were looking for someone who wanted to have a go at them. Hmm. I was beginning to think of them as damn good-looking hookers and not Queens of huge and powerful realms.
“Kieran, did that feel rather like a sexual call rather than a call to an item?” I asked.
“Yes, it did. Maybe they’re planning to bed the miscreant before they kill him,” he jibed, reminding me of the danger here.
“But I haven’t felt any real compulsion to stand up and shout about anything or summon a warden. Nothing,” I said. “I watched her build the spell that hit me. I know what it should have felt like. It didn’t affect me at all. My reactions were effectively a normal human male’s reactions to two very erotic women. So would it be safe to say it’s not me they’re after?”
“No,” he shook his head gently. “That is still a danger, Seth. But if you can continue to let the energy flow over you, that would be good.”
I turned back just as they released the second wave. The whole Arena shuddered, or seemed to, as the power of Sidhe Queens pushed its way through every male in the area. It held the promise of exhilaration beyond the measure of the body, of bliss just beyond any achieved, the perfect orgasm, if only you had what they needed. Oh, devious. This seeking would leave a mark on many here, I knew. I’d be hiding for the rest of my life, now.
As the full force of the Queens spell hit us, I saw Peter waver some in its wake. “Ugh, vicious,” he muttered. I nodded in agreement and continued watching MacNamara’s Bitches. They changed their attitudes, becoming more stiff and regal, more “Queenly.” As they did, they both formed an image on the astral plane and pressed their need for this image into their seeking spell. Unlike the last two spells, this was different in that the needs were different. They needed different things: the Unseelie Queen needed the Night Sword and the Seelie Queen needed the Day Sword. Only the images weren’t of the Swords themselves, but of the Elven bindings on the Swords. They were surprisingly similar on the surface to me.
There were a few places around the Arena where some beings had built enough power to block the seeking spell. I knew if I could feel that, then so could they. Kieran’s nervousness at the situation was obvious in his aura and he was pulling on the ambient energy enough to alert me that he was planning to throw a shield strong enough to hold them back until we could escape. What I needed was confirmation on what I was seeing. I looked to Ethan. He was watching the Queens carefully, just as I was, his head cocked slightly to the side.
“It won’t work, will it?” I asked him.
He turned back to me from the railing, half-grinning. “Don’t think so,” he said casually.
“What they’re searching for doesn’t exist anymore.”
“What do you mean?” asked Kieran, puzzled.
The Queens released the third wave of the seeking spell into the Arena at that moment. It roared through like a tidal wave, beating the images into the minds of everyone present then ripping it away as the wave left again, leaving nothing but an afterimage of the phallic representation of the Elven bindings.
I would be plugging my ears when I went to bed tonight. I didn’t care to hear all the grunting, groaning, and moaning that would occur tonight.
But the Seeking didn’t work. Ethan had removed the elven bindings from the Swords days ago. And the Swords themselves had rewritten several other bindings of their own accord. I should probably check the Stone, Crossbow, and Quiver, too. I’m sure they’ve rewritten something of themselves. Not here, though. I’d check when we got back home.
“They lied to MacNamara about it being theirs and they covered it up,” I said, once the roar died down some. “Because of that, their seeking spell won’t work. It might have, but Ethan broke them off the Swords completely and that’s what they searched for, the bindings.”
“Actually,” Ethan interjected, “I only removed a small part of them. They shook the rest off on their own. Pretty neat trick, too.”
“Technically,” said Kieran, “they didn’t lie. The binding was theirs, just as you avoided telling MacNamara that you had the Black Hand’s weapons.”
“Yes, Ehran, I caught that,” I said smugly. Kieran grinned, watching the Queens’ display appreciatively.
In the Arena, MacNamara stood slowly as the Queens’ podiums lowered at the same rate. The Queens vanished from sight very quickly but their presence was still felt in the auditorium. They had not left, just out of sight. Elvis had not left the building.
MacNamara did nothing to relieve the sexual tension in the air. He smiled, surveying the auditorium like a shark in freshly chummed waters, hungrily.
“Let the Challenges begin,” MacNamara said, smiling evilly down on the auditorium. “The Games are on!” He exploded in a flash of light, blazing through the Arena like a solid gel filling the air with his presence and his power, and then darkness fell completely. Even the fountain of power at the center of the Arena was dark for a few seconds and with it total silence. Until small lights started sputtering on slowly around the exits, then some around the walls. It took five or six minutes for the Arena to return to its former lighting and sound levels. That was pretty amazing with eighty or ninety thousand people packed into such a small volume. That still felt like a light estimate.
We all relaxed some, then. “What, no parade of elves?” Peter asked, somewhat sarcastically.
“Speaking of elves, where’s Shrank?” I asked. “I haven’t seen him since MacNamara visited.”
“I asked him to go up the hall to see if he could acquire the first cards,” said Kieran.
“First cards?” I asked.
“Listings for the first fights,” answered Peter.
“Lord Kieran,” Shrank squeaked from the doorway. He was barely visible, hovering carefully in one place next to the doorjamb. “If I may speak to you… privately?”
Kieran made an odd yet concerned face and got up from the table, leaving the balcony. Peter and I exchanged looks with Ethan then all three of us turned to stare at the door, waiting for Kieran’s return. After five minutes, we started to get worried. I could see him in the apartment, near the front door. His aura as bright as usual, in no danger, but very concerned about something that was just outside the range of my vision. Shrank was bobbing excitedly beside him. He came back toward us, but stopped at the couch and sat.
Shrank zipped out to the balcony and said, “Kieran requests that you come inside now, sirs.”
“Thank you, Shrank,” he said, as we filed in. He had filled the coffee table with papers, one large stack in the top with five single sheets in a row on the bottom. The pixie beamed at him and landed on the back of the couch. Kieran continued reading, then moved to another paper. I wondered if he knew how crazy he was making us. I sat on the couch beside him while Ethan and Peter took chairs opposite us and leaned forward to look.
“Well?” I asked anxiously. Ethan and Peter moved closer to the table, too.
Kieran glanced up nervously and said, “Well, we have a problem. A very interesting problem, really.”
He started collecting the five single sheets together, fanning them so that the signatures at the bottom of each were visible.
“One Seth McClure has been challenged in solo competition in the games,” he said calmly, “by no less than five masters of combat.”
“Ain’t happenin’!” I said loudly, sitting up straight. “No way, no how!”
“And I agree, wholeheartedly,” Kieran said, nodding. “We all know that. And we know that who issued the challenges could tell us something, even though they would all be declined. But that’s not the interesting part of this. Look at them.” He slid the fanned papers in front of me.
I looked at the paper. It looked fairly normal. Expensive, well, what I’d call expensive. Written in black ink in a fine script in English. “I, Clifford Harris…” Freakin’ Asshole. Blah, blah, blah, “…challenge Seth McClure…” Oh, I see what Kieran’s getting at now: my name. “What is that?” I asked, picking up the paper and looking at the odd way my name was written twisting my head around is if it would help. I looked at the next challenge, scanning down for my name. Different handwriting, paper, and ink, but my name had the same shifting, multicolored, overwritten look. I flipped quickly through the other three to find them all the same only in that respect.
“There is a spell on my name on each one. Why? What’s it do?” I asked again.
Kieran explained, “It is a Named location spell. The challenges are spelled to find you within this realm by your name. Once you touch them, the spell releases energy so that the sender knows that you have received it. If the sender is strong enough, perceptive enough, he will know exactly where you are.”
Looking down at the top paper, Harris’. “It found me, but it’s still charged. All of them. What’s wrong?”
“That is the interesting part,” Kieran said softly, leaning back on the couch. “Something we must understand quickly. It is amazingly good luck or someone has placed a very bad hex on you. We need to decipher which is true.”
“How do people like MacNamara get around the Name issue?” I asked.
“By not letting their True Names be known,” Kieran answered.
“No birth certificates in Faery then, huh?” I asked.
“Not as such, no,” Kieran answered. “There are official records that hold names of births and deaths, but those have official names, never True Names.”
“Would this have anything to do with why Peter can’t see me but you can?” I asked, hopeful.
“I hadn’t considered that,” he said, thoughtfully. “Peter, do you know how to send a Named Tracer?”
“Yes,” Peter said, “it’s a simple trick, especially with a Name.”
“Send one to Seth from where you are now, please,” Kieran requested.
Peter sat back, staring at Kieran, then shrugged. He raised his right hand and tugged lightly for energy in the room. Whatever he was going to do required very little energy from what I saw him pull in. A sphere of azure blue light popped into his hand as he concentrated. I watched with interest, but he was right, it was easy. The light was there just to signal the path. The real, significant magic was what pulled the light balloon along and even that was simple. It all hinged on the astral plane knowing where to etch the path placed by the Name.
“Seth McClure,” Peter said, with force. I felt it—my name had power. It felt alarmingly good. Peter released the sphere as he said my name and the power of the location spell seared to life on the astral plane. And it just sat there, hanging in space in front of Peter.
Another sphere, slightly smaller, tapped me repeatedly in the side of my head
and I jumped, falling off the couch into the floor. Kieran and Ethan burst out laughing, but Peter was staring at his tracery in confusion.
“That answers that question. Sorry, Seth, I didn’t realize that would shock you so badly,” said Kieran, helping me off the floor. “You can release that, Peter. I know what the problem is now. My little brother has a new name!”
“What?” Peter and I asked at the same time, surprised.
“How is that possible?” I asked. Peter dispelled the energy bubble with a wave.
“It is a function of power, Seth,” said Kieran. “You are more powerful than we know. Perhaps not in obvious ways. Actually, nothing about you is obvious.” He smiled at me, again. It was more of a smirk really.
“Yeah, like anything about you is obvious,” I snorted out. “Do I get to know my new name?”
“You know it already, Little Brother,” he said softly. “And let us take the lead of the elves and keep it hidden, at least until I can teach you enough to protect yourself. Okay?”
“I don’t understand,” said Peter. “Who changed his name?”
“He did,” said Kieran. “And it is highly likely that he will do it again at some point in the future.”
“I’d say he was a quick study,” said Peter, pouting, “but he hasn’t studied anything yet. This is so unfair! I bust my ass for years and he does things without trying that most councilmen can’t manage.” He looked like a puppy who’d lost his bone.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Ethan said to Peter, patting his shoulder from the other chair. “You’re more than you think you are, too.”
“What? I haven’t done anything,” Peter said, turning to Ethan with disdain.
“Haven’t you? I bet if you ask Seth what he’s done, he’d say the same thing,” he retorted, with a smile on his face. “Yet you have both done things that neither Kieran nor I would have thought to do or been capable of doing. If you think about it, the person who has actually contributed the least to this entire situation is Kieran.”