Sentinels of Magic
1
Oberon glittered as he flew through the Kasley Memorial Park. Birds called to each other. Insects buzzed. He glittered like a new coin as he zipped along at the top of the grass. He only stood a few inches tall, so looking at him flying was like watching a colorful rocket that sometimes hovered or changed direction at random.
A man stepped out of shadow, holding close to a tree's trunk. He held up one hand to stall Oberon flying away in a hurry.
"The court has received a challenge." An orange stripe decorated the black metal armor the man wore. Dark eyes hid behind his helmet's visor, indistinguishable from the shadow within. "You are required to attend with any champion of your choice."
"I don't have any champion." Oberon hovered over a flower, light emanating from his transparent skin. "Why would any challenge me?"
"I deliver the summons." The knight stepped back into shadow, the stripe standing out as the rest faded from view. "You have been told. Find a champion if you want to keep your freedom."
Oberon frowned, trying to think if he knew anyone who could be his champion. He had been out in the human world, roaming the wide spaces for many years. Why would someone issue a challenge for the court? He was a solitaire that talked to no one, and knew no one. If he were to collapse into dust, he didn't expect any to remember what he looked like, his name, or which family he hailed from.
There were other solitaires, but he had only heard talk about them. He certainly hadn't issued a challenge for them to appear or be hunted down by the Wild Hunt.
Oberon stood on a petal of a wild flower he had encouraged to grow off the beaten path, staring up at the blue sky. He was supposed to stand alone from the humans around him, and he did. Sometimes he did do things to stop local predators.
Could that be what had triggered the challenge before the court?
Oberon needed to talk to someone who understood his position and who could give him some useful advice. He searched through the years of wandering before he settled in the Kasley. One of the beings that he could talk to might give him some kind of answer.
Oberon raised a hand. A rainbow formed in front of him, leading into the sky. He leaped into the air, soaring along its length. The rainbow would take him to the person he wanted to talk to about his situation.
The rainbow led into a graveyard across town. It dropped down beside an open hole in the grass reserved for a new arrival. Oberon alighted in a tree as the rainbow faded away.
Now all he had to do was wait for the person he wanted to talk to arrive. He had a set amount of time before he had to appear before the court. He would waste some of that waiting for his source. Then he would have to use whatever information he gathered to his advantage.
Oberon waited, spending the time thinking about what he should do, lists of suspects, which flowers would improve the sad condition of the graveyard, and how long until sundown. He watched a human burial in the open spot as the sun crept toward the horizon.
Would the Harlequin even talk to him?
Oberon thought he would. The Harlequin only cared about ghosts and spirits. Living creatures, even Fey such as Oberon, held no interest. Only secrets and how to pry them from the grave attracted the motley creature.
A man came up to the front gate which was really nothing more than an arch with Dormier Cemetery written on it in metal letters. He walked to the closed grave slowly as the dark closed in. All the other mourners had gone home. Starlight fell on him, turning part of his black coat and pants into diamond shards that shifted as he moved.
"Harlequin." Oberon knew this was the person he wanted to talk to. He could sense the gathering magic in the air. "I need to talk to you."
The Harlequin turned. His clothes became a suit of diamond shaped shards, with a black half mask fitting in the hood that covered his bare skull. Burning lights for eyes regarded the glowing sprite.
"Oberon." The brittle looking yellow teeth could have been smiling. "What trouble hounds you this time?"
2
Oberon glittered on the tombstone he used for a platform. He looked up at the motley specter, wondering what the best approach was to enlist the Harlequin's help. Perhaps some information would do. He collected it like a thirsty human in a desert.
He even pried it from the mouths of the dead.
"I have been called to trial, and I need a champion who will battle for me against my accuser's champion." Oberon glared. "I don't know why this has happened. I need help for this."
"I have no interest in the Fey, Oberon." The Harlequin's voice spoke doom. "What does this mean to me and mine?"
"Can't you think of something that will help me?" Oberon kept himself from seizing the much larger being with glowing hands. "There has to be at least one thing you can think of that will help me out."
"No." The Harlequin turned to the fresh grave. "You have nothing I am willing to trade to get."
"I'm begging." Oberon saw the grave seem to splinter into a hole in reality. He was used to such things. The Fey used similar things when they came to the human world for their own ends. He stepped across the boundary.
"You waste your time." The Harlequin sank into the hole.
Oberon frowned, trying to step back across the border. The gate had already closed behind him. He dropped into a gray human space, Harlequin by his side. He looked around the cluttered hall, wondering at the debris around them.
"What this?" Oberon pushed his inner light out to shine on the dust heap where he had followed Harlequin. He expected something bad to happen at any moment.
"This is the mind of the dead man who was buried today." The Harlequin paused to rifle a stack of pictures before putting them down on a scattered collection of books and papers. "This is what's left when humans die."
"What are you looking for?" Oberon knew humans stopped working, but didn't understand the concept of permanently running out of time.
"Memories." The Harlequin paused, turning in a complete circle. "There should be memories that were precious to him."
"Why do you want them?" Oberon had dealt with the spirit haunter but had no idea why he did the things he did. Why did he take mundane memories from the defenseless? What were they worth?
"They are what made his life worth living." The Harlequin stalked on, the diamonds on his suit glittering as he moved deeper into the darkness.
"I don't understand." Oberon floated after his companion. "Why do you want them?"
"That is my secret." The Harlequin laughed suddenly. "There they are."
Shining sparks resembling Oberon's own shining body floated around the semblance of an easy chair. The Harlequin glided forward, skull face smiling naturally.
Oberon streaked forward, grabbing the shining lights in his hands. He took care not to puncture the membrane that floated around the sparks. He floated away from the motley specter.
"Give those to me." The Harlequin held out a gloved hand. "You don't know what you're doing."
"I need help." Oberon held up one of the sparks. "You want these. I'm willing to trade for your word. Otherwise I just smash these right here and now. I know they mean something to you. Don't think I'm not desperate enough to do it."
The Harlequin stared at him, hand outstretched. He made no move to take the memories, simply waited patiently. Finally Oberon handed the chips of light over with a sigh.
"Idiot." The Harlequin looked Oberon in the eye. "What you need is someone who is an expert in the Fey."
"Do you know someone?" Oberon felt something well up inside his chest.
"I might." The Harlequin walked, splintering the air around them. "We can talk to him at least."
"Thank you." Oberon followed him back to the real world. "I'm sorry about that thing with the memories."
"I knew you wouldn't do anything." The Harlequin turned an eye on him. "You have always been a decent sort."
"You could be wrong." Oberon didn't know whether to be insulted, or flattered.
"I doubt it." The Harlequin took the memories in both hands. His strong fingers snapped the shells apart. Flames leaped away, fading from the natural world as they headed into town. "You have always been decent."
"What was that?" Oberon watched the flames flare out as they strove for their destinations. "What did you do?"
"I took the memory left behind and shared it with those that needed it." The Harlequin's black suit and top coat dropped over him as he turned for the cemetery's entrance. "Sometimes that's the only chance you get to say good bye after your life is gone."
"Don't worry about it." The Harlequin walked, shaping the world around him to take him where he wanted to be by ignoring space. "After all, the Fey never die."
"We die." Oberon followed closely, leaving a trail of dust behind him. "When we do, nothing is left of us."
"I'm sure nothing will happen to you." The Harlequin smiled, his false face mocking as he paused to get his bearings.
"Court challenges are nasty." Oberon looked around. "Where are we?"
"The hospital." The Harlequin headed for the lobby. "Shall we?"
3
The two elemental creatures wandered the halls of City Community. Mortals turned away from the Harlequin's black garb without realizing why. They paused in the Oncology Department, the motley specter looking at those waiting to pass on with a shake of his head.
So many unfinished lives waited to be cut short.
"What's going on here?" Oberon floated in the air, looking around with open curiosity.
"These mortals suffer from inner diseases that their healers can't cure with the limited knowledge they possess." The Harlequin looked around again, then started down the hall. "The only thing they can do is try to make the dying comfortable before they pass on to the realms beyond."
"What would one of us be doing here?" Oberon floated along, spilling small sparks in the air. "Surely not eating these helpless ones."
The Harlequin didn't say anything about the choice of words. The Fey weren't known for their gentleness to humans that wandered into their realm. Why should Oberon be concerned that some would pass on?
"We're looking for a mortal." The Harlequin checked each room before admitting the man he wanted to see wasn't there. That was inconvenient. "He has a knowledge of things that might be able to help you in your coming trial."
"A mortal?" Oberon paused in the air to look at the bigger ghost. "I don't think a mortal is allowed."
"You wanted assistance." The Harlequin went to the nurse's station. The nurses avoided looking into his colorless eyes as they went about their duties. He would have to wake one of them up. "Excuse me, miss. Is Dr. Pan on duty tonight?"
A heavier middle-aged lady looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. She tucked her pen into the breast pocket of her Spongebob Squarepants decorated smock as she thought about the question.
"He should be making his rounds in a few minutes." The nurse frowned. "Is there a problem with one of the patients?"
"No." The Harlequin smiled, letting his veil fall back in a splash of color. "Just a private matter."
"What did that mean?" Oberon inspected a plant in a niche between two chairs. He shed a little light on it before realizing it was a fake.
"The mortal we want to see should be walking the halls in a short time to check on the mortals he is trying to help." The Harlequin walked into the room with the youngest patient struggling on a respirator. The Fey floated behind him.
"Can't you do something?" Oberon drifted above the hairless mortal's forehead.
"I speak for the dead." The Harlequin frowned at the fairy. "The living are beyond my help."
"I guess I can try then." Oberon raised one of his diminutive hands. Light flowed out, falling on the mortal. He cut it off when he saw that the female breathed easier than she had.
"Why don't you do that for all of them?" The Harlequin crossed his arms.
"I don't think I can." Oberon looked down. He was dimmer than before. "I don't feel so well."
"Excuse me." A doctor stood in the door. His green smock and pants hung on a skinny frame. A shock of hair had given way to baldness sometime before he was done with medical school. He glared at the two strange visitors. "What are you two doing?"
"I was trying to help this mortal." Oberon looked at his dim glow. "I think I hurt myself. Wait. You can see us? How can you see us?"
"This is the mortal I was talking about." The Harlequin almost smiled. "He should be able to help with your problem."
"You're the Harlequin." The doctor looked at the other visitor. "Let's step outside so we can talk."
The three stepped out in the hall, Oberon glowing brighter as he moved around. The doctor led them to an empty room, a place where they could talk in private and away from prying eyes. He gestured for them to stay and wait while he went back to the room they had been in. He returned in a few moments.
"Now why are you two here." The doctor seemed ready to pop.
"Oberon is facing a trial by the Fey Court." The Harlequin let the black disguise slip away from the diamonds beneath. "I felt he needed to consult with an expert who could help him."
"I'm flattered but I don't think I know enough to help." The doctor paced slightly. "Do you know what the charges are?"
"Not yet." Oberon shrugged. "I just received the notice today."
"Then I think you should find out." The doctor blinked. "That would help with a defense."
"It's trial by combat, Doctor." The Harlequin moved to the window, staring out at the reflectionless glass. Only the doctor moved in the dark mirror.
"That's bad for you." The doctor checked his watch. "Good luck finding a champion."
"I was hoping you would find a champion for Oberon." The Harlequin's voice vibrated the window as it whispered in the air. "You have done things similar to this before."
"I have been other people's champion when I didn't have a choice." The doctor frowned at the floating fairy. "I guess I can ask a friend to look into things. He walks in the Fair Land sometimes."
"What am I supposed to do until then?" Oberon spun in place. "If I am declared guilty for not showing, the Wild Hunt will appear in the mortal realm to take me back."
"This won't take long." The doctor checked his watch again. "I'll leave him a message. He'll look into it."
"How long will that take?" Oberon didn't know of any mortal who could just wander into the home of the Fey.
"I can leave him a message that I know he will get at midnight in a few hours. I don't how long it will take him to find out what's going on and get back." The doctor shrugged. "At least you will know something if he can find it."
"Why would he do that?" Oberon said. "The Fair Lands are dangerous for mortals."
"He likes mysteries." The doctor smiled. "He lives for them."
4
At the stroke of midnight, a shadow stepped into existence under the clock at the Old River Church. It drew its black substance around it like a coat, and hat. Yellow sparks denoted keen eyes staring out of the moving darkness.
The shadow noticed the paper hung to the door of the church. It read the contents of the note, eyes squinting in the gloom. One hand rubbed a chin that wasn't there.
Mr. Midnight took the note down and tucked it out of sight before turning away from the church. He took two steps and vanished in a stream of sparklers. The street took on a deeper hue of night after he disappeared. The world had seemed to freeze while he formed from the darkness, and then start again after he left.
Mr. Midnight made his way to the timeless halls of the Fey. They allowed him passage because they didn't know he was there. Even the immortals depended on an order to things, a chronology. That allowed him to bypass their wards, and guardians. He controlled the very essence of such a row of events.
Mr. Midnight started with the bureaucracy. In his experience, a summons had to be filled out and filed. Some kind of name would be attached to it as far as complainant. Once he had that, he could backtrack and find out what was going on.
He stepped into the filing office, moved to be out of the way, and debated setting off the alarms he knew was there. The Fey hated intruders, especially personifications like him. They would get out grinding stones for axes and swords if they saw him. He finally decided it was better to watch how things were set up and disarm them.
Time worked for him like a loyal servant.
Mr. Midnight watched the surrounding room as it reversed back to closing time. The last person leaving said several complicated syllables and the lines on the wards turned on. He wound back even further until the same elf came into the room and said other words to cut the glowing spells off. He rewound the words back and played them again in the present where he actually stood. The alarms went out with barely a sniffle. He made sure there was nothing else to be done before materializing in the records room.
Once he was sure he wouldn't be blasted out of existence, Mr. Midnight stepped into Elven time. He reviewed the various cabinets before prying into them. The strange detective found a drawer for challenges and popped it open. He searched for Oberon's name, blinking at what he found.
He wondered what the sprite had done to deserve death by blade.
Mr. Midnight copied the official paperwork before putting everything back the way he had found it. That part was easy for a creature with eyes on the actual memory to compare it. Replaying the activation words made everything seem like he was never there.
Mr. Midnight walked the halls until he found a place he could use to cross back into the world of the living. Hopefully Dr. Pan and Oberon would know what to do with what he had found. A lot of effort had gone into setting up to putting the glowing fairy down. He judged that it was almost too much of an effort to secure a legal duel.
Some kind of agenda with hidden consequences had been created. Killing Oberon must be the first step in some plan. If the doctor could save Oberon, there was no telling how many immortals he would cross.
Mr. Midnight paused as he stepped on a normal city street, with public clocks handing him the time wherever he looked. Pan had helped him out of some problems. Loyalty demanded that he return the favor.
Besides the Fey needed a black eye occasionally. It kept their haughtiness and snobbery in check. If Pan gave it to them, it would make the black eye more amusing to him.
Mr. Midnight started toward the hospital. Pan would be there. Once he knew what was going on, finding Oberon would be easy for the doctor.
Then they could figure out the best way to help the sprite.
5
Mr. Midnight found Dr. Pan working on a patient after a careful search of the hospital. He waited until the physician was done before stepping into real time. The doctor nodded when he saw the shadowy figure.
"What did you find?" Dr. Pan walked to an alcove, blocking it off so they could talk without eavesdropping, or interruption.
"A challenge was issued, and a trial declared with death by blade the mandatory punishment." Mr. Midnight produced his copy of the paperwork. "Just like you were told. The reason is listed as spending too much time in the human world, neglecting the duty to the Fey."
"That doesn't make a lot of sense." Pan deciphered the complicated legalese with a glance. "Oberon is a sprite. They are supposed to be here as border guards."
"Oberon isn't the only sprite that has been challenged." Mr. Midnight almost smiled at the doctor's reaction.
"How many others?" The gears in Pan's brain worked smoothly along the same lines as Mr. Midnight's had earlier reading the challenges.
"Almost fifty. They were all stationed near the city parks, responsible for entrances and improvements to the landscaping." The shadow man had marked the locations in his own mind. The posts were in an almost perfect circle, creating a black spot in the city's fairy presence.
"An intentional hole in the sprites' numbers." Pan considered it. "That could leave a door unwatched to leave the Fey's halls."
"It could lead to a lot of things which could be disastrous for the city." Mr. Midnight looked back in the past. "Wild magic is easily provoked and easily spread where the two worlds meet. One fairy hound could cause havoc without intending to."
"We can't act as Oberon's champion." Pan rubbed his face. "They would see any kind of trick we could propose, maybe condemn Oberon out of hand. We need someone who can fight for Oberon on their terms."
"The prosecutor's champion in all the cases so far has been Slate." Mr. Midnight checked his black watch. He didn't have a lot of time left. "He's won all their cases."
"Thanks for the help." Pan nodded. "I'll find Oberon a champion."
"Happy to do it." Mr. Midnight tipped his head in a nod. "If you need anything else, let me know. This will be something to watch."
Dr. Pan dropped the line and stepped out in the hall, looking at the white walls. The plants put in to cheer the patients up were greener than they had ever been. He hated to do it but he would have to break the bad news to Oberon.
He had done it often enough with other terminally ill patients. It didn't mean he had to like it.
Mr. Midnight turned and headed for the exit, walking through no time. He could play a lot of tricks with time but he had one rule he had to live by. He could only operate in the real world for the hour between midnight and one in the morning. He hated leaving the thing half done, but there wasn't anything he could do about it until the next day.
It was his blessing and his curse.
Dr. Pan found Oberon waiting in the empty hospital room he had staked out for him. Harlequin looked out the window, still wearing his dark coat and suit of disguise. He braced himself for what he had to say.
It wasn't easy telling someone they were marked for death.
"What's the verdict?" Oberon looked up hopefully, his glow permeating the room.
"Someone in the Fey wants you dead." Pan raised a hand to forestall any objection. "Someone has wiped out every sprite that shared the park with you. You're just the latest in a long line."
"That can't be right." Oberon's glow climbed a scale to light up the room. "All of the Fey in the park are gone?"
"A Fey named Slate was the prosecution's champion." Pan crossed his arms. "He killed them all according to the records."
"He's a knight." Oberon settled in a cotton pillow chair, glow dying. "A sprite like me couldn't hope to fight one of them in a fair trial."
"What's special about the park?" Pan agreed with the assessment. "What makes it valuable to the Fey?"
"Some of it is still wild." Oberon looked up. "It's a reminder of how things used to be before men harnessed this science you believe in so much."
"It also holds a door to the Water King's castle." Harlequin turned slightly, light shining through the window casting a stained glass pattern across his coat as he moved. "It's the only one in existence as far as I know."
"The Water King?" Pan had heard the name before, but wasn't sure where. "What about the Water King?"
"He's an elemental." Oberon shrugged. "Members of the court put him down and locked him up in his castle. He's been there ever since. We sprites check the door as part of our duties. If the door was to open, we are to warn the court about it as fast as possible."
"What would happen if his door was to open?" Pan thought he saw a reason why the sprites were taken. All he needed was a little more information to be sure.
"As an elemental, he has control of all water he can touch." Oberon thought about it. "I guess he could cause a flood. I don't know."
"He has the potential to destroy the city according to some of the old memories I have come across." Harlequin shifted slightly. "Access to his domain must be worth something to someone."
"So if Oberon is killed, the door is unguarded, anyone who knew where it was could open it." Pan paced from one side of the room to the other. "Have any of the sprites been replaced? Mr. Midnight didn't check those files."
"I believe there is a procedure, but I know there haven't been any new border guards assigned near my patrol area." Oberon shook his head. "In fact, I have been patrolling on my own for a long time. The captain or the captain's captain would have to put in for more patrol men. I haven't seen Woodson in some time come to think of it."
"He was the first one to get the axe." Pan nodded to himself. "It makes sense. Take out the only one who can ask for reinforcements, then work on the rest. Why didn't the court stumble on this? Slate killed almost your whole platoon in these trials."
"I don't know." Oberon looked at the two. "Woodson's captain should have checked when reports stopped being filed from Woodson."
"We need to find a champion for you who can stand up to this Slate." Pan looked into nowhere. "My presence and the Harlequin would cause them to try to declare some kind of evasion and off comes your head. We need someone who can fight, who's tough, and has no magical ability at all."
"Slate is really fast, and skilled." Oberon thought. "Not many can stand up to him."
"I can give you a spell that will find your champion." Pan took out a pad and pen. "It will be up to you to convince him to fight."
"I'm sure I can do it." Oberon took to the air, floating on star dust.
"I'll go with him, Doctor." Harlequin turned from the window. "This is becoming interesting."
"I'll meet you in the park as soon as you find your man." Pan wrote on the pad a series of numbers with lines connecting them in nonlinear fashion. "Maybe we can get a look at Slate and find out why he wants access to the Water King."
Pan handed the sheet over, before turning to leave the room.
6
Oberon and the Harlequin found themselves floating over the entrance to buried catacombs. The sheet of paper in Oberon's hands had a picture to an entrance roped off from the general public. He had never been in a maze underground in the human world, but he could sense a small feeling of satisfaction emanating from his spectral companion.
"I should have thought of this on my own." The Harlequin landed at the entrance, donning his motley in a moon beam. "Still it isn't a perfect solution."
"I don't understand." Oberon floated beside his companion, looking into the darkness ahead. "Why did Dr. Pan send us here?"
"I imagine to exhume your champion." The Harlequin passed through the rope barrier, descending down the steps into the foyer of the graveyard. "That's why it isn't a perfect solution."
"I don't understand." Oberon frowned at the repetition. "I'm sorry. I feel like I lost part of my mind. Why isn't it perfect?"
"The dead fight for themselves first." The Harlequin led the way into the dark tunnels. The faint light Oberon produced barely touched the shadows that swam around them. "And they are easily sent back to their rest if you know how to do it."
"So he could be fighting and stop to come back here?" Oberon stared at the skulls glaring at him from the walls. "You're right. That doesn't seem so perfect to me."
"There must be something about this dead man." The Harlequin paused at a crossroads. "I can't imagine Pan would consider him as suitable unless there was something that could be used somehow."
"We go to the right according to this." Oberon pointed down the corridor. "There should be an arrow pointing the way."
The Harlequin nodded. He drifted down the rows of bones, light glittering off his diamond patches as he moved. The arrow was a crack in the stone pointing down at the floor. He paused, sensing a multitude of dead that clamored for his attention.
Most didn't have the need to pass on memories to the living in his gaze.
They just wanted to talk to someone.
"He should be right there in the ground." Oberon consulted the paper to make sure. "Yes, definitely in the ground."
The Harlequin spread his arms, pulling the air apart with his hands. They saw something that looked like a throne room cast from sepia edged memory. A man sat on the throne, glaring at them for their intrusion.
"I think this is the person we want to talk to about your problem." The Harlequin nodded the sprite into the memory before crossing the threshold himself.
"Why do you bother me?" The man on the throne shifted, one hand on a sword next to his giant chair. "I don't know you, nor do I want to."
"I need your help." Oberon flew within feet of the sitting man. "I need a champion, and Dr. Pan pointed us to you. I need a fighter with some skill to help me."
"I have skill, remembered skill, but I see no reason to employ that in the service of a fairy, or a clown with a skull for a face." The seated man stood, holding the sword by his leg.
"I need you." Oberon looked around. "Your past world needs you. We think this is just the start of trouble between the Fey and the human reality. Surely that's more important than anything."
"Not to me." The dead man freed the shining blade from the scabbard. "The living left me behind a long time ago."
"This might be your one chance to get back in the game." The Harlequin crossed his arms. "That's what you want, isn't it? One more try to prove you could have been the best?"
"I was the best." The dead man smiled at the ploy. "I'm secure in my ego that I don't have to prove it. Killing a fairy is nothing."
"He's killed fifty of us in legal duels." Oberon tried to think of something that would bring this spirit over to his side. He could see why the Harlequin had said this could end badly. "We think he's tilting the fights his way."
"So you come to me to tilt it the other way?" The dead man smiled at that. "What need of I to do that?"
"Because the last descendant of your family lives in the city where they hope to perform their scheme once the last sprite is killed." The Harlequin nodded. "Once they are done, that will be the end of your line."
"What does that mean to me?" The dead man's poise seemed to fracture for a moment before glossing over to bland disinterest. "He doesn't even know I existed."
"He just doesn't know where you're buried." The Harlequin gestured. "It would be simple to allow him that knowledge so he could find you."
"A favor for a favor?" The dead man smiled. "All right, I will help you. I'll need a body."
"Bones will have to do for the moment." The Harlequin reached into the memory's skin, pulling on it. "Your bones."
He pulled aside the veil so he and the sprite could leave.
7
Dr. Peter Pan stood at the edge of the lake that the sprites had been responsible for guarding. He held up his hands, framing it like a picture. He exerted some of his power to see things as they really were instead of how they were supposed to be.
Fey lettering wrote in neat loops around the edge of the lake. Line after line crossed each other in layers. The water formed a closed door glittering with anticipation. A similar circle of lettering wrote around the center of the door.
The doctor nodded. That was what he had expected.
Dr. Pan saw something move behind the sealed veil in front of him. That must be the Water King. The obvious power made it a real threat to the park, and the city beyond. A flood was the first thing he thought of if the thing was released in the human world. Other catastrophes could be caused from that one simple exercise of power.
Pan could do it with the right amount of concentration and preparation.
Pan wasn't about to let anyone gain control of such a menace without talking to him first. The best way to do that was put his own seal on the seals already working. It wouldn't cost him much, and it would use the already cast seals as the foundation. Basically he would piggyback his spell on the Fey's.
Pan went to where the lines met as they lay on top of each other. He sat, hooking his legs under his body. He held his hand over the connecting rings, speaking some tongue dead before humanity rose from the primordial swamp. Green fire wrote over the Elven script, changing the lettering just enough to make him the keeper of the gate.
If Oberon's brethren had not been eliminated, they would have tried to stop him from casting his spell. That was one of their duties after all.
He pulled a line of light out of the air. He touched the center of the door with one end of the stretchable staff. Green fire touched the key hole at the center of the casting. The blank space in the circle changed to reflect his personal symbology.
Now only he knew what the open command was, and battering down his spell would be the same as battering at the combined magic of the Fey. It was doable, but would cost more than any sane being would pay to do it.
And Pan didn't think any person who had planned the amount of subterfuge already shown would try force when guile might bring a solution to the problem.
The doctor got to his feet, brushing off his pants. He had to get back to the hospital, check on his patients, then get ready to visit the Fey. He wanted to keep things peaceful, but he didn't really believe things would go as smooth as they had planned.
Nothing ever did.
Dr. Pan grabbed the air with one hand, yanked on it. Dust wrapped around him. He lifted into the air in one long leap as if pulled by a long rope. The hospital loomed in his vision. He squeezed his hand to act as a brake so he could land gently. He envied true flight but that spell was really close to the real thing.
Dr. Pan stepped through the roof door, magic gimmicking it for him to use any time he wanted. It saved time crossing through the lobby and dealing with the other doctors, and nurses, in the hospital. A thumb switched his phone on as he went down to check on his patients. At least he was sending some of them home with their families despite all odds.
Injuries were easy for him to repair with his superhuman skills and understanding. Diseases were tougher nuts for him to crack. He enjoyed cutting them away with his magic. It required a certain amount of skill and finesse.
The problem was Pan just couldn't heal everyone on his floor. Being a magician required a certain amount of tact. Miraculous interventions were out of his purview. He didn't want the whole world examining his life and finding most of it was as false as his name.
Then he wouldn't be able to help anyone who knew him.
Pan walked the halls, working small magics where he could. He shook his head as several patients neared the point where no one could help them. He thought he saw the grim reaper waiting in a corner once. Temptation gestured for him to make a grand display in front of everyone who had been following the paperwork signed by him and his colleagues.
He almost did, reaching for the elemental fire that burned within.
Instead he sat and talked with the patients, asking for their decisions. Some just wanted to say goodbye one more time. Some wanted to go before any knew it. In every case, he did what he could and moved on before he gave in.
Sometimes he hated the restrictions he had agreed to when he had taken his oath. He supposed that's why he cheated so much as he did.
Pan looked at the clock. In a few more hours, he could hand things over to the day shift and do what he could for Oberon. He hoped the sprite and the Harlequin had found the champion he had sent them to with his note.
8
The court convened on time in the emerald halls of justice within the fairy castle of Mab, the Winter Queen. The Fey drifted in as the chime from the summoning gong faded in the air. They all waited as the judge assembled from dancing motes on the air.
Everyone knew this was going to be a trial by combat. And everyone knew no sprite had a chance against Slate, the Black Knight. And everyone knew that no sprite would be able to produce a champion to battle Slate, thus insuring execution one way, or the other.
And they were all wrong.
"Is the accused present?" The judge looked around the room, boredom lining his stern features. He had already presided over a number of these trials and the sprites always lost. He wouldn't blame the sprite if he ran. Of course he would have to issue the Wild Hunt to bring the defendant back.
"I am, your honor." Oberon stood by the door, standing on firm ground instead of flying, arms crossing his chest.
"Is the accuser present?" The judge spotted Slate standing in the crowd, but the ritual had to be preserved.
"I am, your honor." Slate stepped forward, separating from the other fey around him.
The judge read the charge and sighed. It was exactly the same as the other ones he had presided over. He wondered what was going on as he went down the listing on the papers. As an officer of the court, he had to judge the contest and be bound by its results like everyone else.
He didn't have to like it.
"How do you plead, Accused?" The judge knew the answer. The question was for form's sake only.
"Not guilty, your honor." Oberon looked around at the anticipation from the witnesses. They didn't care if he was innocent or not. They just wanted his blood.
"Do you wish to drop charges, Accuser?" The judge knew the answer to that one. He would like to be surprised once.
"No, your honor." Slate stared at Oberon, waiting for the end of the reading.
"Which of the three trials do you wish to undertake?" The judge sat back. His pen was poised to write decided by combat on the paper in front of him.
"Trial by combat." Slate flexed his hands in the scaled black gloves he wore.
"Accused, do you wish to declare guilt?" The judge stared down at Oberon. His face urged a change of plea even though he said nothing.
"No, your honor." Oberon's light flared slightly.
He had done nothing to be guilty. He looked where Peter Pan stood, staff in hand, cloak draping over his human body. The Harlequin stood beside him, colors reflecting randomly in the diamond decked shirt and pants he wore. A mask concealed his skull visage. Oberon's champion stood with them, wearing a cloak and hood to disguise himself from the Fey in the room.
"Accuser, who is your champion?" Everyone knew that Slate needed no one to fight his own battles.
"I am, your honor." Slate turned slightly. A set of weapons in belts and harnesses was given to him by a bailiff.
"Accused, who is your champion?" The judge knew the sprite would battle for himself. All the rest of them had. And they had all died.
"He is, your honor." Oberon pointed at the cloaked figure in the crowd. Everyone drew away from the grim personage as he walked to stand in front of the bench. "This is my champion."
"What is your name, Champion?" The judge almost smiled as the crowd started muttering. Maybe this won't be so boring after all.
"Anthony Aurelius, your honor." The voice that issued from under the hood reflected things that nothing living wanted to know, not even timeless Fey.
"Do you understand the matter that's at hand, Champion Aurelius?" The judge peered down at the cloaked figure, wondering why the drapery moved so wrong.
"The black knight wants to kill all the sprites guarding some elemental in the human world, and has systemically killed them all the rest with trumped up charges and trials by combat. Now it's Oberon's turn." The champion shrugged. "Seems simple enough to me."
"Do you have any questions, Champion Aurelius?" The judge nodded at the bald statement. Members of the audience got up and fled the room. Maybe this was news to some of those that should have been watching such things.
"When do we fight?" Aurelius looked up at the judge, revealing his skull under the hood. "I can't stay away too long. People will start looking for me."
"The battle will commence as soon as you have armed yourself." The judge wondered what was going on. A walking skeleton didn't usually take up arms for a Fey. He had never heard of such a thing.
"I'm armed, your honor." The champion shrugged his cloak aside. "Let's get started."
Slate pulled an expanding staff from his belt and swung as soon as the opposing champion said he was ready. He ignored the gasps from the crowd as the light metal rod swept down. One blow against the skull in the archaic helmet and the mission was done. His staff rebounded from a square shield the champion pulled forward from his shoulder.
The skeleton hopped back with a clucking of disapproval and a shake of his head.
"You didn't think it was going to be that easy, did you?" Aurelius pulled a short sword from its sheath at his hip.
9
Dr. Pan stood at the back of the crowd, holding his staff. He looked around, checking for anyone who wanted things to go Slate's way. He expected the gladiator was a surprise, but as soon as the black knight started losing, some cheating would have to happen to win this last contest.
And Dr. Pan wanted to make sure that didn't happen. Even adding his own magic to the locking spells wouldn't stop magic users who had the time and combined power to take his spell apart.
Letting the Water King loose would be child's play after that.
Dr. Pan moved through the crowd, letting his staff clear the way for him when he had to use it. Some of the elves didn't want to step out of his path. A gentle knock of the wood was enough to convince them otherwise.
Pan looked around. The Harlequin's bright panoply moved down the crowd away from him. His bright colors blended in with what the witnesses were wearing. The speaker for the dead could almost be a member of the Fey with the way he moved, the light reflecting around him in a glowing aura.
A clanging exchange of blows drew Pan's attention back to the fight. Anthony Aurelius had caught the staff on his shield once more, bringing his sword around for a vicious chop to the leg. Slate countered effortlessly. The black knight seemed to be made of metal as his hands slowly and deliberately swung his staff in a circle in front of his body.
Pan's staff led him to a spot near the judge's bench. The bottom leaned toward an entourage of goblins holding a covered wicker chair on poles. The cave dwellers didn't seem to be having a problem with the weight of the thing, and its occupant.
Pan let his vision expand, nodding at what he saw. Most of the Fey radiated magic, but none radiated lines. And none connected a line to another in the crowd with one exception. The wicker chair radiated a line to Slate as he and the gladiator circled with a clash of blows.
Pan tapped the bottom of the wicker chair with his staff as he passed it. One of the goblins turned around with a suspicious glare. His bilious eyes swept over the magician without a second glance.
The simple tap left a marking on the chair's substance. Pan stepped back, counting in his head. He smiled in his hood when the wicker chair caught fire, sending flame roaring in the middle of the crowd. The Fey scattered from the sudden burst of energy. The goblins dropped the chair and jumped back. Someone called for water to put the flames out.
Pan watched as the owner of the wicker chair stood and put out the flame with a wave of his hands. He put the creature down as an elf, probably an ancient the way he put the energy down. Being timeless made it hard for others to judge what an elf could do. The magician stepped from the wreckage, waving off any aid from the goblins. The line radiated from his brow to Slate.
That was all Pan needed to know.
Pan brought his staff down on the floor. Magic worked its way around him. The elf turned and looked right at the doctor as the weaving lines wrapped around his feet in a circle. The trapping ring sliced the radiating line as it locked down.
"What's going on there?" The judge looked at the second duel, gavel raised to declare a mistrial.
"This elf is cheating." Pan shouted over the murmuring crowd. "He's giving his champion more power so he can hold his own against a dead human."
"That is a serious charge, human." The judge glowered down at the doctor, placing his gavel down. "None may interfere in a trial with impunity."
"This human has committed an assault on my person." The elf raised both hands. He battered against the circle with his own prowess. "I wish to settle this with my own hands."
"I think you should wait." The judge raised his own hands. Symbols forced the crowd away from the struggling enemies, locking the circle down all the tighter. "One combat at a time."
Slate and Anthony Aurelius paid no attention to what was going on in the crowd. They were too busy swinging their weapons at each other. The black knight preferred to counter, turn, strike with his staff. The dead man blocked with his square shield while swinging his sword, trying to force the black elf into a situation that would hamper his movement with the staff.
So far he wasn't having any luck. The knight moved a second faster than he did no matter how fast he tried to move. He was holding his own, but he couldn't see a victory in sight unless he could just wear the other champion down with the dead's relentlessness.
Aurelius laughed at the thought he was relentless. He decided to change tactics, hoping to end the stalemate with one bold move. If it worked, the sprite was safe until the next contest. He waited for the opening he needed.
10
Slate took a moment to catch his breath. This dead human had blocked every blow, nearly nicked him time and time again, and had basically withstood every attempt to put him down. Worse than that, the black knight no longer had the extra energy from his assistant. It had been a long time since he had faced anyone in a fair fight. He allowed that he might have grown lackluster with his skills because of that.
"I'm glad the sprite asked me to be his champion now." The skeleton stood waiting, swinging his short sword in a circle before tightening his bony grip. "It does me well to put down a dishonorable cur in front of his peers."
Slate didn't waste his breath answering the charge. He had conceived the plan, helped carry the plan out so far, and was trying to bring his plan to completion. A few taunts from a revenant weren't going to dissuade him from pursuing his goals.
The black knight's gauntleted hand dropped down to his belt. He had some weapons in a wallet there that would bring this battle to a conclusion. Then he could deal with the sprite.
Slate palmed three egg-shaped jewels from his bag. He threw one at the gladiator. The dead man caught it on his shield like the knight expected. The resulting explosion hurled him to the end of the fighting circle.
Time to finish the job.
Slate rushed forward. The other two eggs were ready to be thrown as soon as he saw a clear target. He didn't want to waste them on shield, or breastplate. He wanted to fling the weapons at the laughing skull to silence the dead man once and for all.
The shield flew through the air at the black knight. He raised his staff to block it away, so he could throw with his other hand. The square fell a few feet away on the stone floor.
Slate paused, hand upraised. The skeleton was gone from where he had expected it to be under the shield. What happened to it?
The flat of a blade hit the back of Slate's hand. He dropped the eggs from surprise. The elf jumped clear at the last second as the eggs blew up almost at his feet. The force flung him across the fighting area.
Anthony Aurelius decided to hold back. His opponent looked beaten, armor torn in places with fire rolling along some of it. He wasn't going to take the chance his enemy was faking death, or serious injury.
The champion still won if Slate bled out from his injuries.
Slate picked himself up slowly, golden blood dripping down his protective suit. He used his staff to hold himself up as he flexed one hand, then the other. His movements seemed jerky to the gladiator. Perhaps he was exaggerating how badly he was hurt. Perhaps he was really ready to fall over from the next blow. Oberon's champion decided to hold back until he knew for sure.
He had plenty of time before he had to make a move. He could afford to wait.
Slate picked up his staff, swinging it in a circle in front of him. Blood flicked away as he forced himself to move both arms. He swung the staff in a guard position at the end of his rotation.
Anthony nodded. He rotated his sword in his hand again. The next exchange might be the last for the two of them. The gladiator was willing to accept a surrender, but if he had to fight to the finish, it wouldn't be the first time.
Slate pushed forward, swinging with abandon. He only had a few seconds before he passed out from blood loss. He had to keep his enemy off guard, hope to strike a killing blow. This was his last chance to win.
Anthony waited, calmly watching for the movements of Slate's wounded body to tell him where to defend. Several counters suggested themselves as the staff crisscrossed in front of him. Finally the end of the staff came down. Slate was trying for a killing blow to the head.
Anthony stepped forward, swinging both shield and sword to try and create an opening. The staff reversed, trying to slip his guard with a fast movement of hands. The gladiator ducked and bulled through the move. Slate tried to leap back from the broad blade. The metal smashed into his shoulder. He fell to the ground.
Anthony stabbed him again, plunging the sword through the Elven metal with ease. He stepped back, kicking the staff away. He didn't have to kill Slate to win if the court stopped the combat right then. A called victory was still a victory in his book.
Slate pulled out throwing daggers, flicking them along with a turn of his wrist. They clanged off the quickly moving sword, dropping to the ground. His hand reached for something else in his belt. The golden blood pooled under him as he moved. If he could surrender, he might live to fight another day. As it was, he was delaying the inevitable.
"This contest is over." The judge banged the gavel down. "Take Slate to a cell with a nymph to watch over him until I make my final decision."
"Now we shall deal with you two disrupting my court." The judge glared down at Pan and the elf. The crowd backed away from them quickly.
11
Dr. Peter Pan smiled at the judge. He still wore green, loose clothing in the style of scrubs from the hospital, cloak clasped over the ensemble. His staff rested with one end butted to the ground, glowing slightly as he waited.
"The charge of trying to interfere in a court proceeding is serious." The judge leaned back in his chair, looking at both human and elf. He could almost see the calculation in their eyes. "I shall allow you to settle your claims by combat. Magical or physical?"
"Physical, your honor." The elf touched the air, reaching for a weapon stored somewhere else. "I wish to spill this outlander's blood myself."
"That's fine with me, your honor." Pan took off his cloak and tossed it to the gladiator who had moved to the edge of the crowd. A bony hand snatched it out of the air with ease. "Beating cheaters is something I have learned to live with."
"You'll regret you interfered with my business, human." The elf walked to a start point across the fighting circle. He moved his fingers and a sword appeared in his hand.
"Why release the Water King?" Pan moved to another spot, spinning his staff lightly in one hand. "It doesn't gain you anything that I can see unless the gain is killing a bunch of humans in a flood. Is that worth all the sprites you have killed?"
"In a short amount of time, any explanation you desire will not matter because you will be ready for the crows." The elf whirled the sword over his head with the blade humming as it cut the air. "Of course the crows will be disappointed by the lack of meat on you."
Pan smiled, tapped the end of his staff on the ground.
"Begin." The judge banged down his gavel like thunder.
The elf wasted no time, charging and swinging his blade with a blurring speed that made it seem like he flickered across the room. His sword sliced down for an easy diagonal cut. It dug into the ground, spraying bits of sand everywhere.
The elf quickly spun around, his sword on guard. Pan was standing almost where he had started his charge. The human smiled, spun his staff again.
"Why don't you give all this up and just take whatever punishment the court will hand down for being a cheater?" Pan waited calmly. "I'm sure there is some excuse you can use to lighten the charge."
"How did you do that?" The elf walked over, looking for a trick. "Magic is forbidden."
"I'm light on my feet." Pan laughed. "What about that surrender?"
"You must be joking." The elf went for another diagonal cut.
Pan stepped back out of reach. The sword hummed even louder as it passed within inches of his chest and shoulder. He couldn't just keep dodging the blade. Sooner or later, it would connect and he would die. The elf pulled back for another cut with his blinding speed.
The doctor stepped in with a short swing. The end of the staff bounced off the elf's armor, pushing him off balance. It didn't seem to do anything else. The thin layers must be proof from mundane impacts.
That was to be expected in such a dangerous enemy. No wonder he had wanted physical combat over magical. He had a tremendous advantage in protection, weaponry, and skill.
The sword fell despite what the doctor had done. He used his push to retreat out of reach again. The blade passed, cutting through the sleeve of his shirt like a laser. At least it missed the arm underneath.
The elf smiled. Slender fingers drew its weapon back to guard. He had his enemy's speed pegged now. And he knew he was the faster of the two. As long as he didn't rush in, he could slice away without the human being able to do anything about it.
And he didn't like the way the human kept smiling at him, daring him to come on.
The elf decided to stab, hoping to pin the human on his sword and inflict damage as he spun the sword around like a drill while it was inside the torso. That should be fatal enough. Then he could get on with his master's business.
Pan beat the sword aside, using the move to bounce into the elf. His elbow smashed into Fey's face with nose-breaking suddenness. The elf went down, pushed by armor and impact. The doctor landed on top, bringing his elbow down again. The exposed face of the helmet his enemy wore left a perfect hole through the protection to strike.
Pan bounced to his feet. He swung his staff several times in quick succession at his downed opponent. He wanted to make sure the elf couldn't stab him in the back by faking a serious injury. It wouldn't improve the Fey's looks, but that was the least of the doctor's worries.
"I think that's enough." The judge banged his gavel down to end the combat. "Take this elf away and confine him until I decide what to do with him."
Underlings swept the elf up on a stretcher and carried him off to heal his wounds and wait the court's judgement.
"Humans approach the bench." The judge looked at the mage and skeleton. "It seems to me that both of you have stepped in the way of something that very much has designs on your world. I would advise neither of you returning to Faerie. You may go."
"Thank you, your honor." Pan held his cloak in the crook of his arm. "We'll be waiting for anyone else who wants to cause problems."
He tapped his staff against the ground. Bright light peeled away from the wood to send them across the dimensional veil. The skeleton waved with his sword as he went.
"Oberon, return to your duties." The judge pointed at the sprite. "I think there is no question that you are doing your job."
"Thank you, sir." The glowing Fey danced a jig in the air before taking off from the court room.
epilogue
Dr. Peter Pan looked at his visitors. He conducted them to a public lounge on the ninth floor of the hospital where he worked. He sealed the door so they could talk in private.
"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" Pan stood with his arms crossed in front of the door.
The four of them shared looks before all of them looked at the Harlequin. He shrugged in his dull black coat, revealing something of his true grim appearance as he laced his hands behind his back.
"We have been talking, Doctor." The Harlequin gestured at the other three with his head. "We want to stay together until the danger is passed."
"Excuse me?" The doctor couldn't stop his eyebrows from rising. "You want to stay together?"
"Even though we have temporarily stopped whatever Slate and Melchis planned, we believe they'll try again in some other way." The Harlequin seemed embarrassed. "We think that your command of magic would be a great asset."
"We know it will." Oberon danced in the air. "The way you jumped over Melchis was most excellent."
"It would be nice to be able to use the information I gather." Mr. Midnight stood by the wall clock. "There's no point investigating things if I can never do anything about it."
"What about you, Aurelius?" Pan glanced at the skeleton, wearing baggy clothing that could have been stolen from a thrift shop. At least he had covered his face with a hood from a hooded sweatshirt. "Where do you fit into this?"
"I suggested it." The gladiator might have been smiling. It was hard to tell with the skull that remained of his features.
"Really?" Pan mentally kicked himself for not guessing that. Of course, the dead man would suggest they stay together.
"This isn't over." The skeleton shrugged. "I prefer strength in numbers then waiting for them to come after me in my grave."
"And why would you go along with this, Harlequin?" Pan agreed with the others. He had placed alarms to warn him of other incursions around the city, but they could easily be defeated by someone who knew how. And the Fey did know how to use magic.
"Sometimes I feel a yearning to do more than my required duties." The Harlequin went to the window and looked out. "I touch many lives after they have expired. I feel that it would be a little better to touch lives before they are gone. I can't explain this feeling."
"I have thought about what happened." The doctor gazed at the strange assemblage. "I feel that we can help the city, maybe the world. I would be glad to work with you."
"So we can save the world again?" Oberon filled the room with light. "That's awesome."
"We'll have to be vigilant." Pan shielded his eyes with one hand. "Defeating someone in a duel and letting them live usually engenders bad feelings."
"What about the Water King?" Aurelius caught hold of the sprite, blocking most of the glow with his bony grip.
"I placed a seal on him before we went to court." Pan shrugged. "Eventually someone will discover that and try to break it. When they do, I'll be alerted and try to stop them."
"You won't be alone." Oberon freed himself from the fleshless fingers. "We'll be there to help you too."
"That's good to know." Pan smiled. "I have to get back to work. I'm sure the rest of you have things you want to do."
"Not really." The gladiator pulled on shades to cover his eyeless sockets.
"I only have a few minutes left." Mr. Midnight reached to touch the clock over his head. "I have to get back to my clock."
"The dead are calling." The Harlequin stepped out of his disguise and into the window. "Our own responsibilities will still have to be carried out."
"I don't have anything to do before the sun rises." Oberon shone bright. "Is there something I can do?"
"Let's go watch humanity." Anthony Aurelius waited for Pan to open the door. "After all, we have elected to protect all of them for good or ill."
"Let's go." Oberon flashed away in a burst of light.