Deadly Weakness (Gray Spear Society) (15 page)

Jermaine stood on the other side. He was about six inches taller than his opponent, and he had the blackest skin Smythe had ever seen. Except for the whites of his eyes, he looked like a silhouette instead of a three dimensional person. It was actually hard to see his impressive muscles even in direct light. Jermaine's gift was the ability to absorb, bend, and redirect light at will. His skin was a living lens. He could even change colors, but black seemed to be his preference.

Jermaine had won his previous fights by dazzling his opponents. Of course, he was also an extremely skilled martial artist and a beast of a man. He probably could've won some rounds without using his gift at all. Hammer would have his hands full this time.

"Before we start," Ethel said, "I have to emphasize one last time that this is a contest between friends, not enemies. Don't kill each other. Demonstrate appropriate restraint. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hammer and Jermaine said.

"Begin."

Jermaine's skin lit up like a Christmas tree. A shifting pattern of bright red and green points flowed across his whole body. He tore off his tights to expose as much skin as possible, keeping only his underwear. The colors were as intense as laser beams. Smythe found the effect very disorienting. Whenever Jermaine moved one way, the color pattern moved another.

Hammer closed his eyes tightly. Apparently, fighting blind was better than being vulnerable to Jermaine's visual trickery.

Jermaine walked silently in a slow circle around his opponent. He switched off the light show and went to a camouflage effect. Jermaine's legs now looked like an extension of the tile floor, and his upper body matched the walls. He seemed to be made of fuzzy glass.

Hammer just stood in place and listened. His arms were at his side.

Jermaine abruptly rushed forward. He aimed his shoulder at Hammer's knees like a football player making an illegal cut block. Hammer's eyes were still closed, but he must've heard something because he shifted his stance at the last instant. Instead of having his knees broken, he was merely swept off his feet. He tried to punch Jermaine but missed. Hammer's fist cracked the tile floor and left an indentation. The impact sounded like a gunshot.

Hammer got up very quickly. Jermaine resumed his slow circling.

He stopped in front of Hammer and made his skin completely black, even darker than before. There was just a hole in space where a man used to be. An inch at a time, he approached Hammer with his palms forward. Hammer turned his head, obviously listening as hard as he could. When Jermaine's palms were about two feet from Hammer's face, they flashed like camera bulbs. Even though Smythe was across the room, the light was bright enough to leave spots in his vision. Hammer grunted. He was very close to the source of the light. It must've been dazzling even with his eyes closed.

Jermaine kicked Hammer in the gut hard enough to lift him off his feet. Hammer punched Jermaine in the shin, crushing the bone. Jermaine hopped back with the bottom of his leg flopping loosely. His face was twisted with pain.

Hammer opened his eyes and charged. Jermaine desperately flashed a disorienting pattern of colors, but Hammer was so focused it did no good. He landed a blow in Jermaine's gut that seemed to push all the way through to the spine. Jermaine was thrown backwards.

"Stop!" Ethel yelled. "Manhattan wins!"

Smythe and Odelia ran over to Jermaine. Smythe immediately pushed his hands into Jermaine's abdomen and felt around. The liver was ruptured, the pancreas had burst, and there was a huge tear in an intestine. Fluids were mixing that had no business being together. Jermaine was minutes away from dying of massive internal hemorrhaging.

"I'm going to need full power," Smythe said.

"You got it," Odelia said.

She put her hands on Jermaine's chest, and her whole body began to glow. Smythe could feel the extra warmth through his own arms. It was intoxicating.

The race was on. Smythe repaired torn tissues as quickly as he could while Odelia kept Jermaine on life support. It was hard for him to die when she was supplying so much extra energy to him.

Smythe finished the major surgery after a few minutes. He flushed the clotted blood and other problematic fluids into Jermaine's bowels so they could be expelled naturally.

Smythe pulled his hands out. "All done."

"What about the leg?" Odelia said.

"Oh, right."

Smythe went to work on Jermaine's shin. The bone had been pulverized, and Smythe had to mold the fragments together like they were clay. He tried hard to get the shape exactly right, but he wasn't much of a sculptor. Jermaine would have an odd lump or two in his shin for the rest of his life, but he would walk normally.

Finally, Smythe sat back. Jermaine stood up, but his balance was unsteady.

"Are you OK?"

Jermaine nodded. "I think so. That was pretty rough."

"You had a close call."

"I could tell. You guys are amazing." Jermaine looked at Odelia. "If there's anything I can ever do for you, just let me know."

"Just do your job," Smythe said, "and stay alive. That's all the thanks we need."

Jermaine smiled. "I will." He moved away.

Ethel stood up and announced, "Manhattan is today's champion, but there is possibly one more match. Guthrum has requested the honor of fighting Hammer."

Hammer widened his eyes in surprise.

"It's your decision," Ethel said. "There's no shame in declining the invitation, and I certainly won't hold it against you. Guthrum just wants to have a little fun."

"I've never seen him fight, ma'am. I don't know what he can do."

Ethel walked over to Hammer. Smythe wondered what would happen if those two fought. She was so ridiculously fast it was almost impossible to touch her. However, Hammer would only need to land a single blow.

"When I became
legatus legionis
of North America," she said, "the other six legates in the world sent a gift to congratulate me. Each was unique and special. The legate of Europe sent Guthrum to be my bodyguard, and I'm thankful every day. A woman in my position needs the best protection available."

She smiled at Guthrum and he came over. He wore the robes of an ordinary
legionnaire
, but somehow he made them look more elegant than usual. He was taller than everybody else in the room, or maybe he just seemed taller. The veins on his bald head were like a roadmap. Spiked steel gauntlets on his hands gleamed with a mirror finish.

"Can he talk?" Hammer asked.

"Yes, but it's hard for him. He can't get the words in the right order." Ethel put a hand on Guthrum's arm. "This man moves through time a little differently than us. It's not quite linear for him. His extraordinary gift is hard to understand, but one thing is clear. He is
extremely
difficult to defeat." She faced Hammer. "So, what's your decision? Are you ready to test yourself against a truly elite member of the Society?"

Hammer smiled. "Sure, as long as he doesn't kill me."

"He'll only kill your vanity."

Ethel walked back to her chair.

Guthrum took off his robes. Underneath he wore exotic body armor made of black fibrous material. Overlapping triangular plates the size of playing cards covered his torso. He removed his armor and gauntlets and placed them on the floor. Only his underwear was left, and the white fabric was just a shade lighter than his skin. He looked bleached. Veins and blood vessels were visible everywhere. He was in good shape, but he didn't have the huge muscles of a typical male
legionnaire
. Compared to Hammer, Guthrum almost looked frail.

The two men took opposite positions in the square.

"Begin," Ethel said.

Hammer adopted a classic fighting pose with his arms held in front. Guthrum just stood normally as if waiting for a bus. Hammer took several cautious steps forward, but his opponent didn't show much interest.

Hammer suddenly attacked with a lunching punch. A half-second
before
he moved, Guthrum was already kicking. His foot struck Hammer in the nose and rocked his head backwards.

Hammer came back with a fast combination of punches and kicks that looked strong enough to smash through a brick wall. Guthrum evaded each attack with plenty of room to spare. He didn't even seem to be working hard. The match reminded Smythe of a choreographed dance. No matter how much Hammer feinted and switched directions, Guthrum was always somewhere else. At the end of the flurry, Guthrum dropped into a full split and landed a straight punch in Hammer's gut. Hammer stumbled backwards, gasping. He still hadn't touched Guthrum.

"One more exchange," Ethel said. "Finish this time."

Hammer's frustration showed on his face. He sidestepped towards Guthrum in a defensive stance. Guthrum raised his foot and performed a deceptive kick combination that left Hammer swinging wildly at the air. He finished by kicking Hammer in the groin.

Hammer dropped to his knees and his eyes bulged.

"That's enough," Ethel said. "Guthrum wins."

Smythe walked over to Hammer. "Need some help?"

Hammer nodded. "Be gentle," he said in a high voice.

Smythe reached into his pelvis and made a few adjustments. Hammer breathed easier.

"Thanks," he muttered. He walked off with a red face.

Aaron approached Guthrum and studied the taller man with obvious curiosity.

Smythe joined them. "I'm a little confused, sir. What just happened?"

"Wasn't it obvious?" Aaron turned to Smythe. "He sees the future."

"Huh?"

"It's an incredible gift. Guthrum knows what his enemy will do even before his enemy does. It's just a short distance into the future, but it was clearly enough. Perfect anticipation. A handy talent for a bodyguard."

Guthrum watched them silently.

"Amazing," Smythe said.

Aaron nodded towards the door. "Come on. Let's see what's going on in the kitchen. Your poor teammates have been slaving over a hot stove all day. It's time you stopped slacking off and helped out."

"Yes, sir," Smythe turned to Odelia. "Do you want to come?"

"Sure," she said. "I like to cook."

They left the tournament hall and walked towards the kitchen. Everything was in the main building, so they didn't have to go outside.

"Sir," Odelia said, "can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead," Aaron said.

"What is the point of this convention?"

He stopped and faced her. "What do you mean?"

"We're not accomplishing anything. The tournament was nothing more than entertainment. I know the legate is having meetings tomorrow, but those meetings didn't have to happen in Wisconsin. She usually just visits people at their headquarters. What is the purpose of all of us being here?"

"That's a very intelligent question," he said, "and I'm not allowed to answer it."

She drew back. "Really?"

"I will tell you one thing. More healing could be necessary before we go home. The fighting isn't done."

Aaron resumed walking towards the kitchen. Smythe and Odelia hurried to catch up with him.

They opened the door and walked into a cloud of steam and mouth watering aromas. Smythe picked out beef, garlic, and mint among others.

Nancy, Jack, and Kamal were dripping with sweat. They were rushing around the huge kitchen with anxious expressions. Dirty pots and pans were all over the place.

"I brought reinforcements," Aaron announced.

"Thank, God!" Jack said. "We're behind schedule. We haven't even started on dessert."

Smythe walked over to a cauldron of simmering stew. Cubes of pork, tomatoes, carrots, onions, and spicy peppers swirled gently in the thick broth. It smelled delicious.

He didn't want his best robes getting dirty so he took them off and placed them on a shelf. Everybody in the room had seen him in his underwear so he wasn't embarrassed.

Odelia also started to take off her robes, but then she hesitated. Jack and Kamal glanced in her direction.

"Go ahead," Smythe said. "We're all grownups here."

She finished disrobing. She wore red thermal underwear underneath, and she made it look sexy.

"OK!" she said with a smile. "Somebody tell me what I should be doing."

"See those boxes of strawberries, ma'am?" Jack said. "They all need to be washed and sliced thin. Smythe, sir, you can get going on the chocolate pudding. We need two gallons."

Smythe spotted a pile of boxes of pudding mix.

"I have to make a call," Aaron said. "I'll be back in a little while." He quickly left the kitchen.

Chapter Nine

Norbert was kicking his way from one end of the new headquarters to the other. It took about two hundred kicks to go the entire distance across the empty floor. He was pushing to make every one perfect. Whenever a kick failed to meet his standards, he penalized himself by running back and starting over. He had probably done a thousand kicks so far. He had promised himself he wouldn't stop until he beat the challenge or collapsed from exhaustion.