.^^ the Underland ^^

— James Athenos Peterson —

My first impression of my sperm donor was mixed. He seemed like a cool guy, but my predisposition was to hate him, because he'd never been a part of my life. Mum had said he hadn't wanted children, and that's why he never wrote or called, but he said he'd always wanted children.

The pictures on the walls, of who I could only assume was his family, further gave proof to that fact. As I had studied a few courses on Psychology in my preparatory school, I knew that the seemingly random things he kept around the house, despite his professed OCD, were all things that a younger generation would like.

That left three options: Child Predator, Recently Deceased Child, or Wishful for a family.

His reaction to seeing a child on his doorstep removed option one easily, and his file said he hadn't had a child, before, and he was listed as FOR, (father on record,) for only one child, me. The similarities in our names, and his physical appearance, nearly identical to mine, further cemented the truth.

I wasn't sure why mother had lied, but perhaps she just thought I would stop looking for him, if I thought he didn't want to be found. But I was stubborn, so when the agency said I had to stay with a relative, I seized the chance to finally meet him.

We sat in relative silence for a while, after Jane left. He cooked lunch, making odd little taco things with fluffy bread he called 'Yeeros', apparently a part of his cultural cuisine. Mine was made with only vegetables, though he left some lamb for me to take, if I wanted.

I tasted some of it, and found it different from beef, and much tastier than pork, so I ate what he'd left, and then ate my 'Yeero'.

Afterwards, he showered, and then offered to show me his little portion of the city.

He lived in an up-scale neighborhood in the middle of the city, right next to the financial district, surrounded by beautiful brownstones like his, but his was the only one with little solar panels on the roof, and a wind-turbine as well.

As we were next to the financial district, I knew his house, easily twice the size of most I was used to, must be worth a fortune.

"Are you rich or something?" I asked bluntly, as we walked down the street. (He'd finally put on a tank-top, which matches his jeans and sandals. He certainly didn't look rich.)

He snorted. "Nah. I just did a few free surgeries for the old owner. Gave me the real estate as a thank you. And my customers pay in... odd ways. Not everyone can pay money."

"Ahhh... so that's where the stuff in the junk room comes from." I nodded. He didn't seem like much of a gamer.

He grinned. "Exactly. Maybe later I'll show you my collection of vintage vinyls. I have one, Beatles, 1956, worth quite a pretty penny. So I suppose I am rich, I just haven't sold any of it. Don't really need the money."

"Seriously?" I asked.

He shrugged. "My bills are paid for by my clients, I have enough cash to buy myself food and gas... pretty easy, really. I don't need much."

I shook my head and looked ahead. "Figures..."

He frowned. "Don't blame me, child. Don't you dare."

I sighed. "If you're telling the truth, it makes total sense. I just can't figure out why mum would lie to me."

He shook his head, looking honestly confused. "Neither can I... she knew I wanted kids. She knew I would have been overjoyed, knowing she was pregnant. I don't know. Maybe she thought I wouldn't be able to provide for you? No, I made decent money, even back then. Maybe not awesome, but more than I needed. I can't think of a good enough reason. I've been trying, ever since you walked in my door."

"I've been trying since I learned you existed. No dice." I shrugged.

He stopped at a small food stand. "You hungry?"

"We ate half an hour ago." I said dryly.

"Yeah, and?" He shrugged, and spoke to the man familiarly, in that language again, which I supposed was Greek. I was momentarily surprised when I could understand him.

"Ποιος είναι το αγόρι?" (Who is the boy?)

"Αυτός είναι ο γιος μου. είναι μια μακρά ιστορία." (He is my son. It is a long story.)

"Αλήθεια? Συγχαρητήρια, το δικό σας μικρό μαγικό κάθαρμα!"(truly?!? Congratulations, your own little magical bastard!!!)

I blinked. "Why did he Call me a Little Magical Bastard?"

They both flinched. "You speak Greek?" My apparently-father asked in the same language.

I shrugged and responded in kind, my mouth shaping the odd syllables easily now. "Didn't think I did, but I understand perfectly."

He chuckled, and looked at the man. "Two Gyro's for me and him. Lamb, for him, and Pork for me."

"Need I remind you, we just ate?" I asked again.

He shrugged. "Are you not hungry?"

I blinked, and found he was right. I was always hungry, but mum had said it was because I was growing. "Is that a Greek thing?" I asked, confused.

He laughed, nodding. "Definitely."

I ate my food slowly, taking my time, while they talked, him giving the man the entire story, apparently.

"Are you related or something? Or do you tell everyone you meet your life story?" I asked, curious.

They looked at each other, and then back at me. "Well, no... only my friends." Athenos responded.

I hummed, and tossed my napkin into a trash can while they continued their conversation. I noticed someone get bumped into, dropping their wallet, and picked it up, tapping him on the shoulder. "Here, you dropped this." I said over the noise around us.

I felt a tug on my waist, and swung an elbow back forcefully. Someone yelped, then growled, seizing my shoulder and spinning me around. A man, perhaps 20 or so, was in front of me now, with a broken nose and a knife in one hand.

"You little-"

"Do we have a problem here, Schmittie?" Athenos spoke just behind the man, his voice a full octave below what I would call human.

"Oh! D-Doc Parthenos, no, just teaching a kid some manners! No problems!" He flinched, and backed away hastily.

Athenos gripped his collarbone, and I could hear his bones grinding together, though he barely let out a grunt of pain. "Oh I see that, Schmittie... problem is, that kid happens to be MINE."

"Oh fuck-shit-Uhm-I mean, I didn't mean no harm, see, Doc, he bloodied my damn nose, is all-" he panicked, and Athenos raised a hand to stem the flood of excuses and curses.

"Leave, Schmidt, Before I lose my patience, And I'll forget you were ever here." He said, and released him. The group of people melted away into the crowds, and he looked at me. "Don't do that again... though I do say that was a good, strong elbow. Well done."

"How do those guys know you?" I asked, confused.

"I did a few surgeries on Schmidt's leg, after he broke it falling off a third-Story roof, and Dandy, (that's the little one,) had typhoid, a little bit back." He shrugged, and led me back over to the food stand.

"So your clients are criminals?" I asked.

"Not all of them, but then again, I view a pick-Pocket as much less evil than some Oil-Field CEO who can afford some stupid, fancy hospital, with overpriced, 3rd-rate quack doctors in the first place." He grumbled, clearly personally offended by something.

I chuckled. "Alright, forget I asked."

"Hmph."

"The boy already getting into trouble?" The older man at the stand grinned.

"Only a little. Anyway, how's the weather, down in-" he stopped, then glanced at me, and spoke in an entirely new language, which was still translatable. "- the Underland?"

"What's the Underland?" I asked.

He groaned. "Great, he has the Gift of Tongues. It's useless to try to hide, then. Well?" He looked at the older man.

He shrugged. "Cold, a few cases of pneumonia, but they've received the medicine you sent, and I saw to it that it was administered properly. Should be fine in a few days."

"Good, Good... let me know if anything changes, Alright?" Athenos nodded, and walked away, hands in his pockets.

I caught up. "So? What's the Underland? And what language was that? And what's the Gift of Tongues?"

"Hmm..." he shook his head. "Not here. Wait until we're there. I'll answer all your questions, but you won't believe me, so I'll need proof." He stepped down into a small, nondescript stairwell that led to a door covered in words in other languages.

They all read 'Sanctuary'.

"What Sanctuary-"

He held up a hand. "Don't. Seriously, just follow and keep your eyes open, you'll get your answers." The door opened slowly, when he placed his knuckles against it.

As he pulled it back, I saw small glowing tattoos, in the shape of letters I couldn't read.

"What do those say?" I asked.

He glanced down at them, and nodded. "They're Runes, they allow me to unlock doors that are magically sealed." He said simply, as if that wasn't crazy, then stepped through the door.

I caught up, hopping down the last few stairs, and then paused, surprised. In front of me was a village of sorts, with water channels, boats, and little cottages. It was like I'd stepped from London into Sweden.

"Did we teleport to Sweden?" I asked. The idea of magic being real wasn't that far-fetched, I mean, mum wore 'Irish Protection Talismans' all the time, and she wasn't crazy, so there had to be some credence to it.

He shook his head. "No. This is under the streets. We hollowed out a big area, placed supports that look like trees, and made the roof give off sunlight. The water is actually just magically filtered sewage, which saves us a lot of work. Anything that goes in that isn't water is dissolved... so don't touch it." He answered.

I pulled my hand away from the crystal clear water. "Then what about the fish?" I asked.

He grinned. "I'm yanking your chain, man. The fish keep the water clean. They're magical Carp and Koi, amongst other things. They eat literally anything. From crap, to plastic, to Glass, to metal. And yes, humans. So really, don't touch the water."

"Okay... magical piranha. Not too big of a stretch... So is Mum a Druid? Are you? Is that why you separated? Rival clans or something?" I asked.

He laughed. "What? Your mother isn't a Druid, dude. And what type of books are you reading? Some Epic Fantasy? Lord of the Rings? Not that there's anything wrong with being a nerd, I myself love reading Homer."

I blinked. "Who?"

"Greek writer, not relevant. But no, your mum isn't a Druid. I was with her for 8 years, she would have told me, if she was." He shook his head, and waved to a man in a passing boat.

The boat stopped, and I gawked at the tiny man, with green skin and pointed ears.

"That Boy seems a bit out of sorts. He never seen a River Fae before?" The man asked.

"Probably not. Sorry if he's staring, Yuma." He waved casually, and patted my shoulder to get my attention. When I looked at him, he shook his head very slowly.

I took the hint, and apologized, then found other things to stare at as he rowed his way down the little river.

"This is awesome." I finally said, after a few minutes of silence.

He laughed. "It is, Yeah."

"And these are your patients? Are Schmidt and Dandy Fae?"

"No, they're human. Most of my patients are just wounded or sick Mages, and a few Grumpkins, but not many. They have their own healers, and their own ways. I also help maintain the Sanctuaries." He shook his head again.

"There's more?"

"Sure. Tortuga, Nassau, Laos, Miami, Dallas, New York, Boston, Savannah, L.A., Sacramento, Phoenix, etc., etc., the list goes on. Every major city has one, and a few smaller towns in Central America and even out on what used to be the Great Plains. There's a big, badass one in the Grand Canyon, biggest one in the world, except the original, in the Gobi Desert." He grinned dreamily, probably about visiting one day.

I blinked. "So, you move anywhere there is one, and the people there get you a house near the sanctuary."

"Correct! Good deductive reasoning." He grinned.

I hummed. "You're Sure mum isn't a Mage or Druid?"

"Positive-... Well... it's possible she just didn't think I was, and didn't want to scare me off... I never told her, either, though I thought it was because of the Geas..." he hummed thoughtfully.

"Geas? That's Irish magic, right? I've read about it! Magical Prohibition, right?" I grinned.

He raised an eyebrow. "Where did you read about it?"

I blushed. "It was... a book."

"Fantasy novel?" He asked dryly.

"Yes."

"Hm... well, it's true, in any case. The Irish used a Geas to stop people from telling normal people that they weren't married or otherwise related to about magic or the magical world. To keep us all safe. But you don't feel it, until you make a mistake in front of normal people. Then the magic is ripped from you, and returns only after 24 hours." He shivered.

"Ripped out? Does that hurt?"

"It gives you a heart attack, so I'd say yes." He nodded.

"Ooooh, that's the history of heart attacks in your family... what about high cholesterol? Is that, like, magical stuff in your blood?" I asked, excited.

"No. It's because of our diets not being the healthiest. Totally mundane, unfortunately." He shook his head, laughing softly.

"Alright... So what is the guy at the Gyro booth?"

"A very old Cyclops from Athens." He answered easily, and led me down the stairs finally, whistling for a taxi.

A small gondola appeared soon enough, with a small man in green poling it forward. "Is he a leprechaun?" I asked quietly.

"Aye, I am. An' we have great ears, Indeed we do." The leprechaun nodded easily.

"Sorry." I sat down.

"No harm and no foul, boyo! I suppose today is your initiation into the realm of magic, Aye? I'm happy to give ye a crash course! First rule, NEVER thank the Fae. Ye can pay us, yell at us, fight us in a bar, but NEVER thank a Magical Creature, if you value your life. Most don't have the power to harm ye, if ye slip up, but ye don't ever want to make the mistake with the one out of a t'ousand who CAN!" He nodded seriously.

"Ahem?" Athenos said, glaring at the little man.

"Oops! Oi'll let yer Da handle the rest! Apologies, oi've overstepped, Oi think." He hummed, and produced a small wooden pipe from his beard, puffing on it silently.

"Sigh... he speaks true, though. Don't ever say Thank you to anyone, even humans. You never know. 'Much Obliged' works, there's no Geas on it, but it sounds odd, and might get you called out-"

"Unless you're Irish, and your accent is already weird enough." I pointed out.

He grinned. "True. Anyway, next rule is never, ever, EVER agree to help someone without a contract. Same basic principle as saying Thanks."

"What happens if you do?" I asked.

"Bad things. The being, whatever it is, can use it as an acceptance of service, or confirmation of Debt, which could lead to you being enslaved or murdered or worse. So just don't push your luck." He shook his head sternly.

"Oh... okay. Bad Stuff."

"Yep. Next is the simplest, really: Don't mess with magic without my help. I'll teach you what I can, in our three months together, and if your mother lets us continue to see each other, I'll continue your training, but honestly, I don't think she will, so I'll teach you the basics, and you'll have to find a teacher in the London Sanctuary." He sighed.

I blinked. "You think she won't let us see each other?"

"She kept us apart for as long as she did. I don't think she wanted us to learn about each other at all... much less for me to teach you. But whatever. I'll do as I please, and she can complain all she likes, but you'll be a full-fledged Apprentice by the time I take you back to her." He smirked, the very picture of Smug.

"Apprentice?" I prompted.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. There's Ranks to Mages, like everything magical. I'm a Scholar-Class, someone whose Knowledge is placed at the High Master-Class, or 7th Rank, but whose Mana is only Journeyman-Class, or 3rd Rank. Apprentice is 2nd Rank." He explained casually.

I nodded. "What if someone had the Mana of a High Master, but the Knowledge of an novice?" I asked.

"Those exist, unfortunately... we call them 'Battle-Mages'." He said disdainfully.

The leprechaun laughed. "Ouch! Shots fired!"

"I don't get it." I hummed.

"I don't like Battle-Mages. They're Second-Rank at best, but with their power, they think they're better than everyone else. It irks me." Athenos explained.

"So what's the actual term?"

"Hmm? Oh, I think it's 'Aspirant', or something." He looked around, and pointed at the wall. "Pull us in, Yeah? I have business in Deadman's Row."

The leprechaun nodded, and turned us into the wall casually. I yelped, bracing, but we passed right through it, and into a darker area, lighted by crystals and torches. When I could see again, I realized it was a thriving marketplace, filled with all manner of creatures, selling and buying all manner of things, even normal things like spices or clothes.

"What is this place?" I asked, strong at everything.

"This is a Troll Market. You can always find the very best of magical relics, potion ingredients, anything you need, all here. Every Sanctuary has one, but some cities have separate ones, that aren't inside the Sanctuary. You need to stay far away from those. Only the bad sort go to them, because they aren't allowed into the Sanctuaries." He explained, and flipped a white coin as big as his palm to the leprechaun. "For your time and your trouble, Tandecun." He grinned.