Elvendude Read online

  Learning, or relearning, the elven ways in a suburban garage in a human city seemed a bit ludicrous to Adam, but they were in hiding for the time being, and there was no other place. Since he never felt like a king in the first place, Marbann's conditions were easy to swallow.

  Besides, if I make a mistake, I'm not likely to destroy anything valuable, he reasoned.

  "Let's go," the young King said. "Now's a good a time as any."

  Adam had started keeping the two-car garage fairly tidy once he'd bought his Geo, so that it and Mom's Taurus would both fit without banging the doors. At the end toward the house was a set of aluminium shelves, the gas heater, and the hot water heater. On the shelf was a set of metric sockets, a power drill, a fire extinguisher, and a heavy-duty staple gun. Next to the shelf was a portable wooden worktable with adjustable clamps, which was handy for working on things you didn't want moving around. Then there was the smoker, a crude piece of work, made of quarter-inch steel plate. Its steel content made it too uncomfortable for either of them to use.

  The garage was easily ten degrees hotter than it was outside. Adam turned on a ceiling fan, but that only stirred up the hot air.

  "Do you think it's hot in here, Adam?" Marbann asked.

  "It's hotter than hell in here," Adam replied, gazing at the ceiling fan forlornly. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

  Marbann shook his head. "You're still thinking like a human, and this is something you must stop doing. Elves do not let their environment rule them—elves rule their environment. Granted, there are specialized problems here in the human realm. However, a hot garage is not one of them. Observe."

  Marbann closed his eyes, and Adam felt something change in the garage. His ears popped as the air pressure increased, and the temperature began to drop quickly.

  "It's comfortable now," Adam said. "How did you . . . ?"

  Marbann continued with his work. The temperature continued to drop, until Adam saw his breath fog before him. The ceiling fan slowed, as the grease and bearings inside it became cold, and its whine was a little deeper. Frost formed on the floor, the shelves, the worktable.

  "Marbann! It's cold enough in here. It's below freezing, at least!"

  Marbann opened his eyes. "Cold, is it? I thought you said it was too hot."

  "Well, it was, but now . . ." He ran his finger along the wall, leaving a line in the frost. "Is this how you like it? Cold enough to freeze your . . ."

  Marbann was grinning wickedly. "If you don't like the temperature, then you change it to your liking." He folded his arms. "Well. I'm waiting."

  "I don't know how to do that," he said. "You've got to show me. . . ." He began to shiver, and he hugged himself against the cold. It's got to be ten degrees in here!

  "I'll do no such thing. At least, not directly. You healed a rather nasty wound in there. With no training, I might add. Bringing the temperature up a few degrees in here is nothing compared to that."

  "But I had to do something! He might have died."

  "Precisely. So tell me, how did you heal Niamh in there? Tell me quickly. Or don't tell me at all. I can wait all day."

  Adam didn't like this one bit. Marbann had suddenly turned the tables and was toying with him, like he was a child. Compared to him, I am a child. I should go along with this, I guess. . . .

  "I reached inside, and it, well, just happened."

  "Then make it happen again. It's not getting any warmer in here."

  Marbann was right—it wasn't. The older elf was still making the temperature go down. The ends of Adam's nose and ears were getting numb.

  "We're going to freeze in here!"

  Marbann smirked, which, despite the cold, made Adam's blood boil. "No, you are going to freeze in here. I'm doing just fine, thank you."

  He's making a fool out of me, that's what he's doing! He doesn't like the idea of my being King, and he resents it, and now he's playing with me. Damn him. . . .

  Adam hardly noticed his own clenched fists, clutched at his sides, as the anger boiled up within him. Then, something began to happen. He visualized his anger, imagined it turning to heat. He sensed Marbann letting go of the situation, the older elf's expression turning from ridicule to anticipation.

  "That's it," Marbann whispered. "It's like grabbing a rope and then pulling on it. But if you pull too hard, it comes free, and you have to start all over again."

  As the temperature stabilized at what had to be around seventy, Adam let go of the "rope" and looked at Marbann expectantly.

  "Well? How did I do?"

  "You did fine," Marbann said, "though I have to admit that I set you up."

  Adam tested the floor, finding it damp from the recently melted frost, but safe to walk on. "What did you do?"

  "Anger is one of the primal emotions of our kind, and of the humans, as well. It is an emotion that protects, and defends. Magic-using is also instinctive, but since it's been blocked for so long in you, I had to get to it a different way, through emotion."

  Adam reached for the power, now closer, accessible. It was like a recently hatched eagle, young and awkward, but no longer sealed off by its shell.

  Marbann went on to the next lesson: shields. Adam had a bit more trouble with these, mostly because of the distance between him and the nodes, which were miles away. But once he established the link between himself and their prized power source, the shields went up practically by themselves.

  "These shields are malleable and can be concentrated on certain sides, depending on the direction of the attack. For example," Marbann said, standing in the center of the garage, "like this." When he closed his eyes, the shield formed around him, a humanoid block of blurry ice that reminded Adam of a cubist painting. The shield contracted, then appeared to melt from behind and reform before him.

  "If you are certain your enemy is nowhere behind you, you can concentrate your shield elsewhere." Marbann's voice had changed timbre and sounded like he was speaking through a long metal tube once the shield was up.

  Adam tried several times before he successfully copied the move, first forming the full shield, then focusing the energy on a flat area before him.

  "The shield, in this state, is much stronger and will withstand more from your opponent," Marbann said. "The disadvantage, of course, is that your arse is vulnerable. Now. I'd like to demonstrate a helpful aid, commonly referred to as bridging."

  Adam glanced over at Marbann, who seemed to be tapping into the nodes as well. The King felt the subtle change in the flow he was receiving.

  "Even an experienced mage cannot use the full potential of power in a node cluster the size of this one." His mood turned visibly dark. "This is how Zeldan seized our nodes. Instead of his best mage taking on the nodes alone, they spread the power out over several mages. This formed a web which, when focused on a specific point, generated levin bolts of horrendous strength." The teacher paused before continuing. "It was one of these bolts that killed your father."

  The King said nothing in reply, instead focusing on extinguishing the new anger that surfaced. His shield flickered during the brief lapse in concentration.

  "Bridging can be useful, then," Adam said, when he'd regained some of his composure. "With the help of my people, I shall return the favor to Zeldan."

  Marbann bowed, a signal for Adam to do the same, and dropped his shields. The protective fields evaporated, and Adam's teacher came into sharp focus once again.

  They went on to the next lesson: offense. Marbann began with the basic attacks, starting with paralyzing moves reminding Adam of Vulcan neck pinches, moving up to the more lethal weapons of their magical armory.

  "The energy for levin bolts comes from the same source as shields. The main difference is that the bolts are highly concentrated in a tight area and are focused outward. As you are a mage, your capacity is greater than the average elf, but it will, like everything else, take time to master." Without concentrating much on what he was doing, Adam tried to randomly generate a bolt; too late,
he realized he had given the blast nowhere specific to go.

  "Adam, no, wait. . ." Marbann began, but it had already begun. Adam felt node energy race from the souls of his feet through his body and blast from his palm. Marbann ducked as the searing white arc flared past his head and plowed into the metal shelves against the garage wall. The blast threw them both sprawling backward; Marbann fell into the wall, and Adam landed gracelessly on his rear end.

  Adam sat on the floor, dazed, an eerie silence having fallen on the garage. With Marbann's assistance, Adam crawled to his feet, and his hearing gradually returned, the blast having temporarily robbed him of it.

  "What are you two boys doing out here?" Samantha admonished from the garage doorway, hands on her hips, evidently trying to look angry. The grin on her elven features gave her away.

  "Nothing to worry about, my lady," Marbann said quickly, as Adam brushed dust off his jeans. "Just a little levin bolt practice."

  "I'll say," she said. "It's past nine. Here in the human realm, we can't make noise that attracts attention to us, much less noise that occurs at this hour. I might be able to cover for us once or twice if my coworkers at the police department show up, but if this becomes a habit, it might look a little weird."

  "Yes, my lady," Marbann said. "Perhaps we should take a rest from tonight's practice and resume tomorrow?"

  "Marbann, that is a splendid idea," Samantha agreed. "There's something inside here I'd like to show you."

  In the kitchen, Adam found Moira cutting hair with a pair of ceramic scissors she carried around in her purse for emergencies. Niamh sat at one of the informal dining room chairs with a pink flowered bed sheet around his neck, scowling most unhappily about the whole thing. Several hues of elven hair lay at their feet.

  "Marbann, you're next," Moira commanded, snipping the scissors in his direction. "You need something a little more human."

  Marbann looked pained. "But, my lady, this is my mane, my badge of honor. . . ."

  "Which no longer applies up here," Moira came back.

  "But how are we to hide our ears?" Marbann protested weakly. Moira gave him a look.

  "Don't give me that," she barked. "You know as well as I do that glamories will hide just about anything. I cut the hair because it takes too damn much node energy to hide eyes, ears and hair."

  "Look out," Samantha said as Petrus zoomed in from the entrance on a fat skateboard, nearly colliding with Marbann in the process. Petrus wore a black ball cap and an oversized t-shirt with the Tasmanian Devil huffing and snorting on the front. The boy came to a stop, then expertly toed the skateboard so that it leapt into his arms.

  "Whatcha think?" Petrus said without a trace of elven accent. "New look. New do. I can even skate circles around people with this thing."

  "I thought we'd go for the pre-teen hip-hop look," Moira said. "Baggy shorts are in style." Adam noticed the cap with an "X" on it, turned backward. "Trendy. The 'X' is a little out, but no one will notice. I left a tail on the back of his head. Pete, take your hat off and show us your do."

  "Pete?" Adam asked.

  "My new cover," Pete proclaimed proudly. "Petrus don't sound too cool." He took the hat off, showing a nearly shaved head with a thin layer of blond fuzz, with a long, dangling tail reaching halfway down his back. "We might even dye it blue or something."

  "Cool," Adam said. "Where'd all these clothes come from, anyway?"

  Samantha stepped into the kitchen, and Pete squealed away. "I had a box of clothes put away for just such an occasion." She gestured them to follow her. "There's something else you probably don't know about."

  In the garage she pulled down the wooden ladder which led, Adam had thought, to the attic. Instead, there was something else.

  "Before the rest got here, young King, I had additional living space built," she said. "You wouldn't remember it because I made sure you wouldn't. Didn't want you and your little human friends hiding up here to play doctor."

  They ascended the steep wooden stairs, and entered an apartment.

  "I didn't know this was up here," Adam said, confused. "All this time . . ."

  "I put a mild glamorie on the ladder to make you ignore it. I can dress the place up with magic if we so desire, but by itself it makes a suitable living space for our guests."

  Adam counted eight beds in the attic apartment. The walls and floor had been covered with new carpet and still smelled unused. In the corner was a bathroom and a kitchenette.

  "No need to hide everyone in the house. That would be dangerous, with all the unwanted visitors that might come by. Door-to-door peddlers, in particular. The only problem is that it's only accessible from the garage, from the pull down ladder we just climbed. Not the most elegant way to ascend to the new place, but it will be discreet."

  They climbed back down, and Sammi raised the ladder. From below it looked like any other unfinished attic space over a garage.

  Everything was happening fast, too fast. He knew it was real but it didn't feel real. Samantha's transition from mother to sister was still unnerving; perhaps it was his human side, hanging on to his elven self.

  He asked her about this. Samantha replied, "Given the circumstances, you will probably always have a little bit of human in you. Which isn't such a bad thing, provided you use the good part of your humanity."

  "You would know, I suppose. You've been here, living as a human, for a long time. What did you find so interesting about this place?"

  Samantha looked thoughtful for a moment, as if carefully considering the question. "The world here is in a constant state of change. Avalon was too . . . utopian, I guess would be the proper human term. I was bored." She regarded him with a hard look that wasn't altogether unfriendly. "I've always been your sister, and it's going to be interesting, switching to that role."

  "But if you're my older sister, then why aren't you the new ruler and not me?" He tried not to sound accusing; the throne was, after all, his responsibility, and he didn't want it to sound like he was trying to avoid it.

  Samantha laughed softly, looking much younger than she had in years. "We have different mothers, Aedham. Yes, I am Tuiereann. But my mother, she was from Outremer." To Adam's confused look, she added, "I think our father was trying to establish some sort of alliance with the other elfhame. And for whatever reason, it didn't quite work out. We remained distant from Outremer." She looked past Adam, as if trying to remember something. "I never knew my mother. Our mother was everything I ever needed. I loved our parents dearly, Adam. Please don't forget that."

  The serious turn the conversation had taken felt uncomfortable. As they walked back to the house, Samantha subtly changed the subject back to the situation at hand. "Since it's summer, we won't have to worry about putting anyone in school. If anyone asks, I'd suggest the following: relatives from out of town. The Haight in San Francisco. I have an address we can use, if needed. While you and Marbann were practicing, I showed them our tape of Encino Man. Looks like Pete's already picked up on some of the slang already."

  Adam groaned. "He doesn't need to be going around sounding like Pauly Shore. I think it would drive me nuts after a while."

  "Just think what a good disguise it would be," Samantha pointed out.

  In the dining room, Moira stood over an empty chair, and with the scissors waved Marbann to sit down. "Your turn, Marbann. And speaking of disguise, did you ever show our King here how to hide his elven features? He can't be walking the street looking like that, you know."

  Marbann held his arms up in a gesture of surrender before Moira fastened the sheet around his neck. "I leave that in your capable hands, my lady," he said. "He knows basic self-defense. This I thought would be most important to learn."

  "Basic self-defense and how to nearly level a house with an uncontrolled levin bolt," Samantha said sardonically. "It doesn't look like any structural damage is done," she added, eying the ceiling suspiciously.

  As it turned out, learning the human glamorie was simpler than building the b
asic shield and required less energy. Since Adam's hair was already styled to blend in with the human population, all he had to alter were his ears and eyes; it was like wrapping a miniature version of the magical shield around his face and wearing it like a helmet.

  "There. Now you look presentable," Moira said.

  At the door came a knock. Adam looked up at Samantha, who had a mischievous expression he couldn't quite fathom.

  "Well, King Aedham," she said, "shouldn't you go answer it?"

  Chapter Eight

  My, Bridget is a big girl, Peter Pritchard thought wryly as his two o'clock appointment walked into the New You Fitness Center. A severely overweight woman in her mid-thirties lugging a shopping bag squeezed in through the front doors. If they get much larger than this, we'll have to install a garage door.

  Before approaching her, Peter caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrored walls. He was a big hunk of a guy with short blond hair, a forty-two-inch chest and a tropical tan, wearing Spandex shorts and a New You Fitness Center t-shirt. I should make quite an impression, he thought, grinning at his stunning reflection. I always do. She may even want to bed me before I say the first word.

  Yesterday Bridget had called to find out what the New You had that other health clubs didn't. Peter suggested she bring workout clothes for a free session. From the looks of the large shopping bag, she'd brought an entire wardrobe.

  "I'm here to see Mr. Pritchard," she said to the receptionist at the counter, but Peter was already on his way to greet her.

  "Ah. Mrs. Bridget Palmer. Pleased to finally meet you," Peter said, offering his hand.

  On her rounded, sour face perched a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. The puce polyester pantsuit, worn thin in many places, threatened to rip where her compacted flesh filled it a little too tightly. She looked him up and down suspiciously, then blushed.

  As expected, Peter thought smugly to himself. She can't take her eyes off me.

  Finally she shook his hand. He crushed hers. He loved doing that, to prove both his strength and innate superiority. No one ever complained, male or female. It was expected from a strapping specimen of manhood such as himself.