Unchosen Read online

  "I don't know about that. I touched it. I think it is angry. But..." She managed a weak smile for Celeste. "You're right. He wouldn't. And we'll figure something out."

  "I wouldn't blame it for being pissed off. It should be," Hobie said, approaching the rest of the group.

  “How have the sword tests been going?" Noriko asked.

  "I wouldn't know, now. They made me go back to bed under escort.”

  “Hobie, you nearly dropped it on your foot trying to wield it through the fleece.”

  “And they were so paranoid, sending me back to bed after only three tries!”

  Noriko looked him in the eye and thought she saw Something there. “Hobie, the fourth time is not the charm. There will be plenty of opportunities for you to fight.”

  Before they could say more, Noriko noticed Mr. Gebramlak watching them from a distance. She waved him over. “Good to see you so rested and ready. We're of course glad to have you all. Very few of the locals have seen many battles."

  "Not really the point of the T'ila," Nils said. Mr. Gebramlak just nodded sadly.

  "You have some news?" Hobie said.

  "I do," Mr. Gebramlak said. "First of all, the sarcophagus is done."

  "First?" Nils said. "More good news, I hope?"

  Mr. Gebramlak nodded. "Second, we cannot cut the fleece down to size, but we have some Tanzanian ladies who can do amazing things with the skin of a black goat. Their coverings have been helpful, Yodit says."

  "So Yodit's got the Fragarach job?" Noriko said.

  Mr. Gebramlak nodded again. "She handles it best."

  "Handles it in terms of she can wield the sword, or she can handle the heat?" Nils asked.

  Mr. Gebramlak grinned. "Both. We have our threat to Xharomor. We just need to get her there, keep the daemons off of her, and get her an opening."

  He almost made it sound easy. "How much practice does she have with a sword?" Noriko asked.

  "Some, though she's better with knives," Mr. Gebramlak said.

  "I can work with her a bit in the time we have left."

  "I am certain that would be appreciated.”

  "Prep for a crash course on Otherlord stabbing? It'll be a pleasure," Noriko said.

  It was good to have something to get started on. When Noriko found her, Yodit was certainly committed to work with the sword in the extremely limited time they had left.

  Which was good, because it was clearly difficult.

  “I've done a little work with the shotel,” Yodit said when they sat down to catch their breath after a few rough attempts. Noriko was vaguely familiar with the hooked swords, almost a bigger version of Yodit's knives. “But not that much sword stuff at all."

  “If you'd become an expert with the shotel, we'd be even worse off. All the best ingrained habits would have become bad ones once you picked up the stabby-thing. Western Swords are weird.” Noriko said.

  “Yes,” Yodit agreed. “Sounds like you're speaking from experience.”

  “Sort of. Even Marshall's practice weapons threw me totally off for a long time. The balance and the weight...”

  "But you remember how it's supposed to work?”

  "After the sledgehammer lesson, it would be tough to forget."

  Yodit paused, looking at her, confused. "Sledgehammer lesson?"

  Noriko nodded. "Happened when Marshall studied with Swordmaster Hanzo at the Hikari. Marshall didn't understand the katana. He was used to the Western stuff.”

  “Why would he study the katana? His job required this 'stabby-thing.'”

  “We didn't have Fragarach yet then. Not even for the first time. And Hanzo took the 'swordmaster' thing very seriously. He liked the katana best, but he was still better with most Western swords than anyone I've ever seen. He wanted Marshall familiar with anything that might … keep him alive in the meantime.”

  Yodit nodded and, rather than wallow on delicate ground, noted the previous question. “Sledgehammer lesson?”

  Noriko smiled. “Marshall listened to the lessons but kept slipping into stabby-stance. Hanzo called off the exercise and said Marshall was going to build the weapons a new rack, if he couldn't show them respect any other way.”

  “Okay...” Yodit said, clearly waiting for the connection.

  "Hanzo then supplied him with three nails—and a sledgehammer."

  “Ah, okay.”

  Noriko nodded. "Marshall took a little while to pick up on the bit about how two things can both be hammers, but different purposes. He quit thinking he knew what he was doing, trying to apply one set of techniques, and let Hanzo build up from the things they did have in common."

  "Such as?"

  "Movement, grips, awareness of the space and terrain and of your opponents. Differences between weapons doesn't have to ruin you, Hanzo said, if you keep them in mind and don't try to treat the weapons the same.”

  "And you did the same thing in reverse, as a katana person understanding European swords?"

  More memories of heroes. "This wasn't my katana. It was passed on to me after my thunderstaff was broken."

  "That had to be a major transition for you."

  "I'm getting way too used to major transitions. I still prefer the katana to Western swords, though."

  "Okay, that said..." Yodit stood back up and readied the sword again. "Where would you suggest we start, if we're trying to instill new good habits?"

  "Footwork," Noriko said. "As fast and agile as you are, we should use that. Then we'll work on the thrusts instead of all swinging."

  They began again, with shared focus. At first it was simple footwork, coordinating steps to sword moves. As Yodit got the hang of more of the basics, Noriko added more. Soon, the pair were leaping with their shared grace and mobility, with Yodit's speed and momentum being used to add power to her swings in place of raw strength.

  "Good, very good. Now, try to blend one move into the next." Noriko demonstrated with a rough wooden practice weapon, hoping that Yodit was ready to work on her combinations.

  Thankfully, the young woman seemed to be up for it, smoothly transitioning from a leaping strike to a deft parry and directly into a thrust.

  "Good. Xharomor is a lot stronger than any of us. You'll have to be careful with parrying. Don't expect to just stop anything. Turn his strikes aside, and strike back fast. Any cut from Fragarach should deal a lot of damage, even a glancing blow. The strikes you make on the way to him won't ruin its charged power against Xharomor, either."

  Yodit took in the new information, and they turned to defense. It once again took time, but Yodit continued to be a quick study.

  Eventually, there was something that couldn't escape notice: the smell of singed goatskin.

  “I thought they enchanted the coverings thoroughly.”

  “They did,” Yodit said. “But they were working with a sword that was charged, but idle.... I think it might burn even hotter when it's being wielded.”

  If it really is angry, I'm worried it will get worse when it gets near Xharomor. Noriko hesitated, considering Yodit a moment. "How do you feel about that issue?”

  Yodit readied for another practice run. “We're out of options. I think the Tanzanian ladies have enchanted one spare set of goatskin.”

  Noriko nodded and saw her through the exercise. "We'll get you the best shot at Xharomor we can manage. I think you've got the hang of this."

  "Good. Then I'll go get the sword wrapped in the back-up covering, so we go into the battle fresh."

  Noriko agreed and went to go clean up after the extended practice session.

  Nils met her as soon as she'd stepped away from washing her face and hands.

  “How was practice? You want to lay odds?”

  “We're going to try to keep it simple and go in fast. The deck's stacked against us.”

  “We'll just have to compensate wherever we can, then,”

  Hobie approached. Celeste was just behind him, but Hobie himself had his hand halfway over his face in a gesture Noriko fo
und familiar. “You two decent?” he asked.

  “Never,” Nils replied. “So it seems Yodit is great, circumstances are lousy, speed may be necessary. There. You're in the loop.”

  “You didn't try to out-volunteer her?” Hobie asked Noriko. “See if you could handle it covered up?”

  “No,” Noriko said, and she meant it. When she'd thought destiny called, she was willing, but it wasn't the tactical choice. “I'm awful at thinking past my own reflexes and training in the heat of things. I want to be on top of my game and getting as much use out of our magical arsenal as possible. I'll find out if Hachiman's sword can hurt Xharomor. Give Fragarach a real opening this time.”

  "So you'll go after Xharomor directly?" Celeste asked.

  There was a lot implied in the question. It had been Matvei who broke her staff, but she’d still been there, up close, when the blast hit. She still knew exactly what the Otherlord could and would do. No one wanted any more tragedies, least of all Noriko. "I have more experience fighting him than anyone here. I have to try."

  "We have the most experience," Hobie said.

  Nils shook his head, and put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "They'll need you holding the gates against the hordes again. The fight with Xharomor will take a lot of tactics and focus."

  This time, Hobie didn't back down. "There's no patient wait this time. I stayed homed in on Matvei. I can stay focused on Xharomor. You know I chase the biggest threats. It doesn't get bigger."

  Nils looked to Noriko for support. This time, she couldn't give it to him. "We'll need him to have a chance. The tower forces will have to handle the hordes."

  Nils sighed, turning to a hiss as he fully replaced the mask. "It's too risky. Sure, he could help. Or he could mess up everything. We have to do this just right."

  "We already lost one hero letting them go one on one with Xharomor," Hobie said, "It's great that someone can play substitute Chosen One. But..."

  Celeste was wincing. "But?" Noriko asked.

  "But I know I failed to do my job before, by not buying enough time for people to do theirs. I got my ass handed to me, and we ran away."

  "We didn't have any choice. If we hadn't, the sword and the sarcophagus wouldn't be here now," Nils said.

  "I know that, genius," Hobie said, managing somehow to make ‘genius’ sound both like a genuine comment and a mild insult at once. "But this is it. There's no more running. I can't speak for anyone else, but I'm doing my job right this time. And that's giving the hero of the day a shot at Xharomor. And if the shot misses, then we all die well. But I don't let people down again."

  This time, it was Celeste who put her hand on Hobie's shoulder. "You didn't let anyone down. Not Marshall, not us. That was Dr. Nathaniel, and only Dr. Nathaniel."

  Hobie looked like he was about to disagree, but let it go. "I'm guessing Nils is calling dibs on Dr. Nathaniel, then?"

  "He is," Celeste said, narrowing her eyes as she looked at Nils. "He has some sort of plan." It didn't sound like she entirely approved. Noriko didn't blame her. She wasn't the biggest fan of what explanations Nils had given on the subject either, but she had to trust him.

  "Then I'm calling dibs on Xharomor. They have some real weapons here. Some of them might be able to scratch him. Enough to give someone a chance."

  "And real shields?" Nils asked.

  "Oh Hel no," Hobie said, grinning. "After it killed Matvei? I'm using the one you made."

  "The D+ in wood shop shield, with real options here?"

  "A+ in enchanting," Hobie said. "And when you're not being infuriatingly contrary, you do good work."

  "That sounded dangerously like an 'I love you, bro,'" Noriko teased.

  "Well, if he's not going to come out and say it, I will," Celeste said. “I love you all.”

  “So do I,” Nils said.

  Noriko smiled. “Me too”

  “Likewise.” Hobie said, with a grin.

  It wasn't a ritualistic blessing, but Noriko couldn't deny it helped her feel at peace.

  “Sorry to interrupt.” Yodit had entered silently, but she didn't look like she intended to linger. “The reports are in. Xharomor's forces are in the forest.”

  27

  Now for Wrath

  Celeste Manoucheka LeRoux

  Mr. Gebramlak had been handing out his handmade amulets as he directed things. He seemed to give them to anyone whom he thought could benefit, but didn't bother with most of his colleagues gathered near the tower base.

  There were healers from a dozen spiritual traditions and many vocations who distinctly went beyond healing. Some priestesses reminded Celeste a little of her Gran, but Vodoun in Africa was very different; somewhat less syncretic, less masked. The ladies smiled with wry, distant courtesy as Mr. Gebramlak handled his amulets, and they made their own preparations. Celeste wondered what they knew about death. Whom did they know, whom could they draw upon, to help them take control of those kind of energies? Could any of them match Rhalissa, if she came for them?

  Well, we all know what's at stake, and we're all prepared to find out.

  They had as much defense as possible and the easiest route of retreat into the tower, if it came to that. Other people in the support corps were scattered around the area, wherever it was deemed they could do the most good. Dagny was part of the small group standing between the healers and the front lines. She wouldn't be joining the charge to go after Xharomor, focusing initially, on inspiration and bolstering the defenders. If something, or a lot of somethings, broke through and got into the courtyard, though, she'd be well placed to try to buy Gebramlak, Celeste, and the rest some time.

  Various enchanters sought to restore and reinforce the protections on the walls and those within as the gates and walls were bombarded. Others stood watch over stacks of magical components, mildly enchanted arrows, and various talismans, ready to run them to wherever in the keep they might be needed.

  Dagny herself had begun her song. Somehow, her voice echoed throughout the keep, reinforcing wills and morale. Celeste couldn't understand a word the woman was saying, but the whole thing was seeming a lot less hopeless anyway.

  She rummaged through her bag taking out some candles. She lingered for a moment, picking up the purple one with the masked-heart-like Veve. Celeste looked at it for a moment. Then, thinking a simple 'Thank you,' put it away and lit some plain ones instead.

  She was praying when she heard it: the sound of the fabric of the barrier-realm being forced from the 'normal' side. Or rather, the sound of the daemons pouring through once it had been forced.

  ***

  Edwin Vincent Nathaniel

  It took longer than he'd estimated to reach the base of the tower. Perhaps he had expected some of the traditions involved here to be a little more passive. He'd been able to hide himself from detection and walk through most of the battle with the help of a few artifacts from the Academy, but even so, it had been necessary to be cautious about tripping mystical defenses. And Edwin hadn't expected Melody.

  She'd been waiting for him, expecting him to try to breach the tower. His enchantments—or disenchantments, to be precise—failed several time to take effect. Simultaneously, his own defenses were sorely tested as she sought to confuse his perceptions and destroy his sense of balance and spatial relationships. Given time—and perhaps a bit more raw power to go with all of her finesse—she might even have succeeded. They'd been peers once, in status within the Academy, and nearly in terms of ability as well. Nearly.

  He kept having the unexpected impulse to explain. 'But Melody,' as her ridiculously rigged wheelchair zoomed around him. 'I'd given and given, and for that, I felt myself slipping away into the ache.' But what he said was a single word she would hope not to register in her mind as he countermanded the sigils on her chair. 'But Melody,' as the wheelchair froze and she was thrown to the ground, not on all fours because there wasn't enough legs to count. 'Don't you get it? There would have been nothing left of me.'

  He grabbed the wh
eelchair and threw it at someone—someone he didn't know, for a change—as he strode past. It didn't even raise his pulse. It didn’t at all strain his hale, hearty, Othermagic-infused limbs, no matter how much they still looked like boney monstrosities. Get on with it, Edwin. There are no more choices about this. You made them all a cataclysm and a half ago.

  A quick check verified that his spells were still holding, and no one had noticed Melody yet, besides the person now under her wheelchair. Still, it was only a matter of time.

  The tower itself was warded. He might be able to dull the perceptions of sentries, and slip past the ranks of healers and their guards, and even those watching the entrance into the tower. Moving past magical defenses was something else entirely. Picking up on each one, he carefully tested them, feeling out each defense point and just how it was intended to hinder him.

  Generation after generation of spellcaster had built onto these defenses. The slightest mistake could end him. Well, not end him, thanks to Xharomor, but put him to extreme inconvenience and discomfort for a long time, or at least sorely test his own defenses.

  Still, always easier to destroy than to build.

  Ward after ward came down, and he worked his way closer and closer. Twice he almost missed the hidden traps, cursing himself, and began the unweaving again. While he passed a few occupied rooms, it was mostly non-combatants. He supposed most of those would be guarding the Seal in the sub-basement. Still, he'd expected to meet some resistance.

  After one more level, two more disenchanted traps, and three more wards, he heard it. Nils was at work on the sarcophagus. Good.

  ***

  Igarashi Noriko

  The T'ila's walls weren't as sturdy as those of the Horizonte Academy. They didn't have Headmaster Carvalho's decades of earth-magic reinforcement. These enchantments focused on hiding the place and its people, not forming an impregnable barrier. Even so, they were something. Sorcerers, archers, and others with ranged capabilities stood atop the walls under cover, doing what they could to slow the horde coming for the gates. Noriko waited inside, just beyond the gates, for the inevitable. The band gathered with numerous other warriors in the courtyard, all preparing to charge once the gates were breached.