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Saturday, February 27, 2016

Serial Story Saturday

Unexpected Adventure, Part Twenty-Two

The air was a mess of noise, and from all ten sets of bleachers—each set could hold around fifty people—arms waved. On the field, at the bottom of a depression between four hills, four teams ran. They dodged and flipped off of moving stone slabs that hung from massive supports. All of them were trying to get to the cranks that swung the slabs, while simultaneously keep the other teams from knocking the large ball into their goals—holes bored into the sides of the hills.
I made my way around the bleachers until I came up to the fifth set. It had, as far as I could tell, the best view. Daddy was thumping Regis—who looked amazingly like a hero with his night-sky cape—on the back and shouting. It had nothing to do with Foosball.
“So that is why you are reluctant around elves!”
Regis sidled as far as he could. “I told you, I’m not—”
“Daddy!” I interrupted, hopping over a few seats and shoving aside some spectators. “Mommy said you’d need this.”
“And so I do!” Daddy swept the book from my arms, flipped to a page, then triumphantly jabbed his finger down. “Right here, this proves it!”
Regis turned red. I stood on tiptoe to see the page. It was genealogy, and I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
Daddy flipped the book around and held it beneath Regis’ nose. “You are the great-great-grandson of Morning. You have elvish blood in you. Don’t deny it!”
“I am.”
“Well, that explains all the troubles you’ve been having, yes?” Daddy clapped the book shut. “Come, great-great-grandnephew, we had best rest for our journey. Cloudwillow, did mother say anything else?”
I nodded. “Yeah, but maybe we should…” I pointed out at the woods. He watched the game. Rolling my eyes, I waved my hands in front of his face. He cleared his throat and tucked the book of Prophecy under his arm.
“Right. Off we go.” He still watched the game out of the corner of his eye. Then Regis blocked the view. Knowingly, based on the grin that tried to sprout.
I sidled up to him. “So you’re part elf? And you have magic in you?” His face tightened. With a tilt of my head I added, “You’ve been trying to avoid magic this whole time. So-o-o-o-o, that means you probably have some crazy magic ability that makes you powerful, is embarrassing, or otherwise marks you as abnormal.” Regis picked me up by my shoulder—expertly, because it didn’t hurt—and plopped me onto daddy’s back.
Daddy didn’t break his stride. Giggling, I hung on to his neck. “I’m right, aren’t I?” Daddy turned his head slightly, smiled, and said, “Indubitably.”
The rest of the ride home, I was silent. My mind busied itself in guessing what Regis’ abilities were. Fire control? He had the temper and the simmering glare for it. Elemental manipulation was a possibility, since Peter—ugh, what kind of villain name was that?—was able to do it. Maybe he could direct lightning with the sword.
Regis frowned. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“Like what?” I gave him a crazy smile and widened my eyes. It was then that I noticed a strange glow coming from him. It was thickest around the cape, a dark shade of white, but it was around his entire body, too. I jumped off of daddy and latched onto Regis’ hand. “You generate energy!  Does your face get all puffy and it’s embarrassing when you use it? Is that why you’re trying to hide it? Did you blow up at one point? Can you control it, does it—”
Regis looked like he wanted to be a million miles away from me. He opened his mouth, shut it, then said, “You’ll find out.” He was more tense than he had been a moment before.
It puzzled me for the rest of the day, and I thought about it when we ate, when we were talking, and when we went to bed. Then, I had a terrible suspicion. I crept slowly out of my room and to the living room where Regis was sleeping.
His eyes were closed, and I poked his face. He twitched. “Go away.”
“You’re a beacon, aren’t you?”
He cracked an eye open. “Yes.”

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