More Mysterious Magic
Copyright© 2026 by Gina Marie Wylie
Chapter 2: Flight
An hour later, Bridgette walked out of the house she had, quite literally, been born in, and was a little surprised to see a convoy of five black Suburban SUVs parked in front of the house. More importantly, there were two blonde young women who got out. There was a huddle with a dozen agents around them, and everyone moved around a good deal. In a moment, the vehicles were on the road.
“Three-card monte,” her aunt said with a laugh.
“I don’t understand,” Bridgette replied.
“You’ve seen it, I’m sure. You hide a pea under a nut shell and move it around rapidly. The players try to guess which is the right shell. It’s also played with cards; you put an ace as one of the three, move them around for the bettor to decide which is the ace. Or five SUVs and three blonde young women.”
“Eleni, there’s only one of you. Isn’t that a giveaway?”
“You ever see the movie, I forget which one, where the bettor turns up the corner of the ace? The gambler moves them around like usual — and when the poor guy looks again — all three cards have the same corner bent. I’m the bent corner, Bridgette. Except in this case, they will be sure we are in different vehicles ... if there is even someone out there now.”
“He had two confederates,” Bridgette pointed out.
Eleni laughed and shook her head. “He had two orcs.” Bridgette glanced at the two agents in the front seat, neither of whom had seemed to hear her aunt.
“Surely, you’ve guessed now?” Eleni asked Bridgette, seeing where she was looking.
“No, I haven’t guessed.”
“I have some of my progeny running around helping me. While most of them won’t be as long-lived as I will, they will be around a good long time. Hans, the nice young man driving, was born about the time of George Washington. He came to the US as a Hessian mercenary. He has since moved on. Karl Friedrich is just a youngster — he came of age working as a secretary to Otto von Bismarck.
“We take care of each other. The story about you is based on a case we’ve been working on that involves a young woman — your age — that heard her father bragging about a Ponzi scheme for investors. I told you before — the initial investigation was poor. They missed that the guy was laundering money for one of the Mexican drug cartels.
“We learned absolutely nothing from the two shooters in Corvallis. They are probably Mexican, but we can’t be sure even of that. Hispanic, certainly, but there are a lot of Hispanics even further south of the border than Mexico and also further east.
“I’ve seen the preliminary reports on this guy. He’s not in our files; his prints aren’t in our files. In fact, I think he’s from where you just were and not here, just like the orcs. Which means Kirilin. Which means big trouble in River City.
“Should I thank you?”
“No. I was hoping this was a drug gang thing — the orcs shot that down. Kirilin has somehow followed you here — and we don’t know who leaked to him. We’ll find out though, won’t we, boys?”
“Ja, Mutti,” they chorused.
“Mutti?” Bridgette asked.
“German for Mommy. They are my sons.”
“And me?”
“No, dear, you’re not. A daughter, not a son, of course. My fellow elves back home think I’m depraved. Not only do I love men, I don’t kill myself when my husband dies. I don’t kill myself when my children die. I wait a while and have some more babies. Bridgette, the love of a fine man is sweeter than any wine. Yes, I like the sex, but I dote on the love.
“Do you know how a lock works?”
Bridgette shook her head; the unexpected change of subject was a surprise.
“There are tumblers inside the lock — at least that’s what they are called. They are the reverse of what’s on a key. A low tumbler matches a high ridge. The key can only turn if the various hills and valleys match.”
Bridgette nodded in understanding.
Eleni went on, “In biology, there are genes hooked up with the DNA. I’m going to be a biologist in my next life, I swear. I want to know more. Genes come in dominant and recessive, you understand?”
“We had that class as sophomores. A lot of parents were upset. Evolution and genetics are red flags for many.”
Eleni made a dismissive hand gesture. “Whatever; it’s how things work.”
“Bridgette, your people have found that human DNA matches that of most apes — like chimps — they are about 98 percent like humans. I would dearly like to go home and show them how much alike human and Elf DNA is. A real treat would be if they are 98 percent like monkeys as well! It will be worth hundreds of years of slights to see the expressions on their faces! Alas, I haven’t learned enough yet.
“There are eight dominant-recessive pairs that control an elf’s long life. They are additive; which gene isn’t important — it’s the number of double dominants that an individual has. It’s a simple formula that’s taken about a century for me to work out.
“For the first three genes, the life span of a person is two to the N — the number of double dominants — minus one. Have one double dominant and the factor is two to the zeroth power. Which is what?”
“One,” she replied.
“I left out the times a hundred,” her aunt added. “A person with one double dominant will have an average life span of a hundred years, plus or minus ten percent. If you have three double dominants, your life span is two squared times a hundred years. Four hundred years at best.
“After that, it improves. For genes four through six it’s two to the Nth, times a hundred. Sixteen hundred to sixty-four hundred years. Genes seven and eight are the jackpot. They are four to the N plus one — you live a very, very, very long time, give or take ten percent.”
“And what do I have?”
Her “aunt” smiled benignly. “Dear, even elves age like you do until their late teens to very early twenties. Then aging slows down. Both Hans and Karl Friedrich — I have no idea how long they will live. All I can do is guess based on apparent aging. Ask me in the next century and I might be able to come up with a floor. Or if I can research the matter, I might even know which genes are involved and give you an accurate number.
“There is one clue, Bridgette. You remember Stouthand told you that you were a half elf?”
“I remember that. You told me something different.”
“I lied to him; he quickly learned that I’d lied, but he kept his counsel. I’m seven parts of eight of a full elf. I estimate that I have at least seven of the right double genes. As I told you, dear, you are the result of some not-very-accidental matings.
“Your mother surprised me; she’s a true half elf. Your father was an even greater surprise — he is a true half elf as well. I’ve researched your family tree, and in conjunction with the research I’ve done over the years on mine, I’ve come up with a theory.
“Elves tend to marry other elves. I’m not sure why this is a surprise, but people seem to be able to recognize an affinity even if it isn’t conscious. You, dear, are more than 15/16ths elf.”
“That’s a lot, I suppose.”
Eleni laughed. “Dear, you’re more of an elf than I am. Isn’t genetics grand? What do you think got my interest in the subject going?
“I followed many of my first children for a number of generations. Yes, I noted that more cousins married than I might have expected, but by then many of us were minor European royalty, and all of us intermarried promiscuously. After two or three generations of my descendants dying normally — it’s not that I lost interest, but my dear, I do love my men — but I would lose track of their descendants.
“For a very long time, I had three to five children over a seven-year period every five decades. No one in those days was the least surprised if a woman died in her sixties. I’ve had to draw things out these days over a longer time as life spans have increased. The fetish of record keeping is a great pain in the bottom. It was so much easier when birth records consisted of one line on a tax roll — and cheap to buy. Now it’s more complicated.”
“And this has what to do with me?” Bridgette repeated.
“As I said, we help each other. Thus, this time your cover is rock solid, known only to those who are quite loyal to their mother.”
“And what is your real plan for me?”
“You aren’t stupid, Bridgette. Young, but not stupid. Later, I’ll show you a road. I’ll show you how to walk that road, like Stouthand walks his. Coming and going. You can return at any time — but if you’re not careful, it will be exceedingly dangerous.
“As I said, you’re not stupid. You were born here; you’ve been to my original home. I can’t imagine that you will be surprised to learn that these two aren’t the only such places.”
“No, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“The place I’ll send you to is not here and not there. I know of none of my children able to go where you will go — except for you and me. I will give you more details later.
“In a short bit, we will stop at the office. There, go through your bags. I’ve taken the liberty of supplying you with a single backpack, somewhat more commodious than the one Stouthand supplied. On the other hand, contemplate life as a snail — you will be carrying your possessions on your back. When we stop, go through your things. Bring the things you’ll need most urgently in the days ahead. You have some practice in this.”
“Thank God, I rescued Princess Ilona, and she harbored no ill-will for my having sent her husband packing; she forgave me for exposing her son as a bastard, but getting him recognized by the father’s father was an added bonus. Of course, she was pleased when I got her marriage annulled. One of the very many things she helped me with was advice on what she used during her monthlies.”
“Make friends quickly, Bridgette. Women use similar tricks everywhere, but with slight variations. You are going to be gone longer than a month this time.”
“How long?”
“There’s no way to say. Kirilin is playing with some very powerful forces. If he is lucky, he’ll only lose his soul. Most likely, he’ll lose his humanity. When he’s dead and gone, confirmed and validated, then you can come back — cautiously.
“Bridgette, you know the truth of it — you were the one who learned it after all. Kirilin wants to take over from Angmar, the King of the Night. You thought that you’d set Kirilin and the Lords at odds; I don’t know if that’s the case, but I doubt that someone like Kirilin would have stopped plotting even if he suffered that sort of reverse. It may well be that his goal hasn’t changed. The Lords of the Night live, if that’s the word for it, longer than elves. It may be a very long time indeed. And that’s if he reappears as Angmar. The King of the Night rose separately to rule them all. The Rings of Power are evil and corrupt men faster than any other race. The King of the Night was dispersed — which could be the same thing as killed — but it might not be.
“On the other hand, if we can stop our leaks — then a new you back home is in the cards.”
Bridgette nodded. “And where am I going this time, if not back to your home?”
“A place that only a few elves can reach, and then they have to have extra strong magic. More later, dear.”
They passed through Portland, and from the conversation, Bridgette learned that two of the vehicles left the convoy there and entered the Federal building. An hour later, two more cars peeled off in Salem, where they stopped briefly so Bridgette could pack her bag.
Eleni was blunt. “There’s your backpack, shrink the contents of your bags to fit inside. Clothes are the last thing you’ll need. Books are known, but they use big type; I’d prefer that you leave those behind. Your armor, your robe, and staff should come along.” She watched in silence as Bridgette worked. It didn’t take long. Eleni laughed. “I would not have imagined you were a fan of bras.”
“After your home, I learned the importance of support.”
They went for two more hours, still heading south, then they turned off I-5 and went east on a state highway. They stopped in a small town, and Karl Friedrich supervised gassing the SUV — Oregon doesn’t allow self-serve gas stations.
They ended up on a dirt road out in the country; a deserted country. They stopped just past the crest of a hill, and Karl Friedrich hopped out and hot-footed back over the crest. It was growing dark by then, but Eleni pointed to Bridgette’s pack.
Bridgette shouldered her pack. Karl Friedrich was checked and reported no lights behind them. There were none in front of them either.
Eleni started east on foot, and Bridgette fell in next to her. “It’s been a long, exciting day, Eleni. I’m not up for a long walk,” she told her aunt.
“I know, dear. Please be patient for a mile or two.” Or three, as it turned out. Her aunt paused next to a scrub cedar that had seen better days. Even in the fading rays of the midsummer sun, Bridgette could see it had been lightning struck.
“You are nearly a grown woman; you are just starting on your career as a nearly full-blooded elf and a mage of some power. It is impossible for you to stay here, so you’ll go to a place I know.
“It isn’t like Earth or my home. For one thing, like Earth, there are only men — elves no longer go there except for me. There are no dwarves and such like — but then there are no orcs and Kings or Lords of the Night either. As you should have learned about your home, men range the total spectrum of personalities. From saints to men nearly as evil as one of the Lords of the Night. There are Einsteins and Mother Teresas as well as Hitler and Stalin wannabes.
“The people where you are going to are confined to a continent rather similar in shape to an upside-down South America, colliding with Australia — although in their Northern Hemisphere rather than the southern. Where you will arrive is a kingdom in the early days of their renaissance.
“I don’t think they will have as nice of a renaissance as Europe did. A little over a century ago, they fought the equivalent of a world war. There are seven kingdoms, and six of them suffered terribly. Armies marched through their territories, killing and burning everything. In a dozen years of war, every major city was destroyed, three-quarters of the men and half the women and children died. Few elderly survived. A significant percentage of the farms and villages were devastated as well.
“The kingdom that did the best survived based on its geography — it is hard to reach and has great natural defenses. However, it also lost three-quarters of its men because it went to fight the battles as far from its homes as it could.
“When the war was over, their entire world was impoverished. Worse, except for the kingdom that didn’t do as badly as the others, there was little ability to recover; few farms hadn’t been destroyed. As many people starved as died in the fighting. There was little infrastructure that remained. To put it bluntly, only now, more than a century after that war, have they clawed themselves to what they had before.
“The Valley Kingdom had been badly hurt, even if it hadn’t had as much destruction of its infrastructure. It was, and is still, a feudal society. Before the war, women couldn’t hold or inherit property.
“Their king survived the war, although only one of his six sons did as well. Women who had children weren’t going to give up their lands to scurvy cousins just because a woman couldn’t hold title to land. The king was smart enough to see that he’d get a lot of support if he confirmed a woman’s title to her family’s property. Most women were ecstatic. Not only were women confirmed in fiefs, but in titles to homes and businesses ... and not just those who had surviving sons.
“Most surviving men could see the fairness of it, but as with most things men do, there is always a minority of nay-sayers.
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