Unchosen

by Jeffrey Cook

  “Is there another problem with the car?”

  “With the road. Ice.”

  “Well, that's pretty normal.”

  “Not in Louisiana, which is the only place I have ever driven before.”

  “Right. Sorry. So we're probably about 35 hours' drive from any entry-points for the Gisting, if we don't stop much or get lost.”

  “And I'm the only one who's ever taken a driving class,” Celeste said.

  “I'll...pay really close attention,” Hobie said. “We can trade off eventually.”

  “Thanks,” Celeste said, and then drove in silence, focusing intently on the road.

  Hobie rather missed the sled. Sure, it had been slower, even considering Celeste's careful driving. Still, it had been something physical with which to keep himself busy. Now, there was just quiet and sitting while trying not to fidget. The first few miles, anyway. After that, it was the same, but with more signs of what had once been what passed locally for civilization. More cars run off the road. A few burnt husks of buildings. Too much carnage, and none of his making. The sled also would have distracted him from wondering what they might find.

  It was hard watching Celeste drive, jaw clenched, eyes straight ahead, like the ice might seize control of the road any minute. On the other hand, it would also have been hard to watch her have to face too much quiet.

  16

  To Tell the Tale

  Dagny Arnorsdottir

  Astrid and the baby were at the T'ila Tower, where there was still safety for now. Dagny had to keep remembering that.

  What she didn't want to keep remembering was turning, just before crossing between the Gisting's pocket realm and Earth, to see the distant effects of the Gisting Seal's breaking.

  She knew she was somewhere in Sweden now, but nowhere near safe. Signs of the daemons were everywhere. Worse, she was sure some of the draugar were still after her: the undead monstrosities made out of her friends were tireless and homed in on the living to feed their hunger.

  Dagny continued trudging along the road, trying not to think of what she knew. She was much more willing to think consciously about whether the frostnipped fingers under her gloves were becoming frostbitten, whether little ice crystals were starting to form within the skin of her ears and within the open scratches. That speculation was better, in her mind, then telling herself the story of how it all happened. Stories were her vocation, and if she survived, she would tell all she knew. Then she would have to think about it, but not yet.

  Ever since they'd told her to run—to bear the message East, find allies, make sure people knew that the Tower had fallen—she'd been on the move. Unfortunately, her progress was consistently slowed by injury, the need for supplies and occasional small fires to stave off the cold, and particularly by the difficulties in hiding herself from both the daemon patrols and the undead.

  There was a car on the road. A car was being driven on the road. The car was being driven by a dark-skinned girl who definitely seemed entirely human and non-Othercultic. The car on the road also had an armed human boy in the front passenger seat. The car on the road had, in fact, little Hobie Bjornsson in the passenger seat.

  Dagny was still processing this when she stepped up more and waved her arms, even as the car slowed further.

  When it stopped, a back door opened. “Dagny?” Nils Bjornsson asked, his brother apparently busy wresting his own door open by force.

  “The Bjornsson boys. You're alive.” The seers had given them an account of the Fall of the Academy and the Death of the Chosen One in broad strokes, but that had been it.

  “And you're alive.”

  “Only because I drew the short straw.”

  "Then the Tower—" Nils began.

  "Matvei has it. And the Seal is broken."

  "Survivors?" Nils asked.

  "Most of the non-combatants were sent to the T'ila before he and his army arrived."

  "Don't suppose anyone took Matvei with them?" Hobie said. She wasn't sure at the moment if it was more painful or more refreshing to hear from one of the bear-sarks again.

  "Not that I saw, and I don't think we're that lucky. It all happened so fast."

  "Fast?" the Japanese girl that was helping support Nils asked. "The Gisting was always built to be a fortress."

  “We were ready for a fight. The Day had come and gone, so it was over, but we were ready to go down swinging. To make them pay through the nose for what they'd done.” Dagny was vaguely aware that the kids were fidgeting with discomfort, and she didn't blame them, but she wasn't going to stop either.

  “We didn't realize what would happen when Matvei got to go to work without Rhalissa around,” she said. “Seems she normally hoards all the death energy for her craft. But she wasn’t here, and what Othercults you get in the Frozen North are particular Matvei fans. They came with him, and they took the dead—our dead—and drew them back. They twisted their minds into draugar.” She had to pause for a moment, because that had been a different kind of beginning to an end, when the bear-sarks who had spent their lives dearly buying time and destroying Matvei's shock troops rose against the Gisting.

  As they all listened, the dark-skinned girl who'd been driving was going through her packs. "You're hurt. Let me see what I can do."

  “Dagny Arnorsdottir, may I introduce Celeste LeRoux, who trained in a South Louisiana healing tradition where you have to scold your patients when you're about to collapse.”

  “Hush, Nils. I had my turn to rest. I can be productive.”

  "First we should get off the road, and let me see if I have enough tricks to hide all of us for a while,” Dagny said. “Then, I'd be glad for it."

  They rolled the truck into a drift, so it would appear like any other wreck, and the routine settled in again: find a spot, clear some snow, build a fire. Once it was barely started, Nils was settled near it, and Celeste began to light candles off of it for some of her rituals. Hobie and the Japanese girl, who eventually introduced herself as Noriko, set to unpacking their supplies and setting camp.

  “So...is the T'ila the only Seal left?” Dagny asked as she drew on her illusions and distractions, trying to hide them all from the draugar and daemons.

  “The Hikari Seal is still intact, even without the tower,” Noriko said as she came over to the fire. “And we indirectly helped keep it that way last week. There's even a lot of sacred ground intact on this side of the barrier in Japan. Obviously, any broken Seals at all have been letting things tear and letting daemons in, but...”

  “But every little bit helps,” Dagny said. “I understand, and I'm very glad to hear that the T'ila Tower isn't the sole final focal point.” So glad.

  Nils again wrapped himself up tightly in all of their occasionally odd-looking blankets, and Celeste turned her attention to Dagny's injuries. Instead of just the sting of the fire fighting the frostbite, the touch was soothing. Hobie joined them by the fire.

  It was Nils who first started talking again. "So Matvei is still at the Gisting? And it's still standing, just with the Seal broken?"

  Dagny nodded. "At least as far as I know. He was the last time I was in binocular range and seemed to be fortifying it again."

  "It makes sense," Nils said.

  "Why would he do that?" Celeste asked, looking oddly at Nils.

  "Rhalissa," Nils said.

  "But she just said Rhalissa wasn't involved this time," Hobie said, sounding confused. "What does she have to do with the Tower?" He looked to Dagny for confirmation. She just nodded.

  "I get it," Noriko said. "Xharomor needed the Tower taken out and all, and Matvei is the best suited for that. But after that, Matvei has to look after his own interests."

  "She said it before," Nils said, gesturing towards Dagny before his hand disappeared under layers of blankets again. "Rhalissa hogs all of the life energy, and Xharomor lets her. Matvei has no illusions over who their lord thinks is more useful. Which was probably even sort of okay, even if she cramped his style, when ther
e was just the two of them."

  "And now Xharomor has another potential Lieutenant," Noriko said. "Who is another master-level spellcaster. Do you think Matvei's scared enough to set his fans on messing with the sarcophagus?”

  Nils shook his head. “He may be scared enough, but Matvei's cultists aren't that good.”

  “They took us down with our own defense force,” Dagny pointed out. “They're certainly not useless.”

  “In terms of collaborative rituals straight out of a carefully-translated handbook, they're obviously dangerous,” Nils said. “Using the sarcophagus, though, goes beyond cult practices, beyond even legitimate scholarship of Othertongue. That stuff is for the 1% of the .003%. Matvei's not going to try anything with the sarcophagus. Its only use to him is evidence that he's still in the game, and he'll want to stay in the game, when Rhalissa and Dr. Nathaniel might want him taken out.”

  "The Gisting is warded to Hel and back," Hobie said.

  "Was," Dagny said. "But still easier to fix and build onto what's there than reinvent everything."

  "And Matvei gets a trophy," Nils said.

  "Matvei doesn't get a trophy," Hobie said, pacing, hands clenched into fists. "He gets to die. That's what he gets."

  "Maybe," Dagny said. "But not today. Not any time soon. You need to come East with me. Or head South."

  "We just came from Russia," Nils said. "The situation isn't any better. And I'm not sure if we'd be welcomed back."

  "Or eaten for perceived ingratitude," Hobie said. Seeing Dagny's odd look, he added, “Nils won at Russian Roulette. Appealed to witchy self-interest. We got a ride across half of Russia from Baba Yaga.” He then started to frown. “But not fast enough.”

  “Nothing would have been fast enough,” Dagny told him. “Even if you could have done something—” which Dagny doubted, although she didn't say so. Marshall was dead, after all. “You can't be everywhere at once. Still, I suppose it's nice to hear there's a lack of monstrous unity.”

  "Maybe we can still stop Rhalissa," Celeste said, not sounding convinced. "That was the main reason they were willing to give us a ride, after all."

  "We're not done here, yet," Hobie said, still pacing.

  "We're too late. There's no army left. We need to figure out what next," Noriko said. "I agree we can't go East again."

  "For now, get some rest," Dagny suggested. "With watches posted."

  “Yeah,” said Celeste. “Y'all get some rest. Dagny and I'll take first watch.”

  There was almost a debate, but eventually, they were alone. “You'll be okay?” Dagny asked. “The boys did seem a little worried about you.”

  “I'll be okay. You know how they can get. At least it sounds like you know.”

  Dagny nodded. “I knew their family, at least. They were so young.” And now she had a much greater awareness of why a mother would want her children far, far away.

  Celeste was kind enough to break her train of thought without knowing it. “Things turning out okay? I've got a lot more practice with heatstroke than frostbite.”

  “Much better, thank you. And I'd guess you would. You're from, what is it called, New Orleans?”

  “Not quite. Some of my family was from the city, yes. The LeRoux side are from a more rural area. Small towns and tribal lands that can't get recognized as tribal lands, mostly.”

  “And apparently, the healers there are all workaholics.”

  “No,” the girl said with an odd certainty. “Because it's not like putting in long hours at the office. It's a vocation. It's Who We Are.”

  There was something in the girl's tone. Something that almost sounded like she was arguing with herself. Dagny decided not to leave her wrestling. “I understand vocations,” she said. “I'm a skald. We've got our own.”

  Celeste nodded and smiled. “I'm guessing it's a lot less pacifistic.”

  Dagny smiled. “Oh yes. Quite the opposite.”

  “But not like Hobie.” Celeste's voice was flat now.

  “No, not at all like Hobie. We're on the front lines, but we're supposed to be able to tell what happened afterwards.” Dagny let the silence sit for a moment as she swept with the binoculars. “You're not comfortable with Hobie's role as a bear-sark?”

  “My problem is less with how he fights and more with how Hobie thinks of himself,” Celeste said. “It's something he and I are never going to see eye to eye on.”

  “Makes sense. Some—I'm sure not all—of it is just the necessary differences of a civilian perspective.” Dagny sighed, because her mind always came back to it. “My wife and I have ended up talking about that often since the baby was born.”

  “You have a wife who's a civilian?”

  “Of course. We're really old-fashioned. No matter who conceived with whom, a kid needs a civilian mom for primary care and to handle finances and vote on peacetime affairs and traditionally feminine things like that.”

  “Old-fashioned,” the girl said with hint of American dubiousness before asking “How old's the baby?”

  “One year. They're at the T'ila Tower. I know they made it safely. Haven't heard since. I guess we can't assume...”

  “Sure we can,” Celeste said. “Without even getting into how ridiculously hidden the T'ila is, Xharomor will schedule his moment of triumph just right. The Soul Witch has got to multiply her command through the days and all that.”

  “Well, the King of Monsters already bent knees, I suppose, so that won't be too long.”

  Celeste sighed. “If Matvei has to constantly be on guard against his own side, you wonder why he ever took the job of Xharomor fanboy in the first place.”

  “The Othercults have been heavily into what some call Social Darwinism since millennia before Darwin.” As an area of study, the words came easily. Easier than thinking about Astrid and the baby. “The Otherlords want the people on this side of reality whom they influence to be like sharks that eat each other in the womb, and those who get involved sign up for that in the hopes of power. Never mind that the majority will receive very little benefit and just end up grist for mill of conquest. They get into it because they all believe they're going to be the fittest. And it worked out for Matvei for centuries.”

  17

  King of the Monsters

  Hrobjart Bjornsson

  Hobie woke up sweating, despite the cold. The sharp bite of the northern winter didn't much bother him, it never had, unlike his brother. In some ways, it helped center him again, with something that felt like home.

  Unfortunately, it also brought the nightmare back: they were leaving. They were this close to a fight that might really do something, and they were running away. They didn't even know where yet. All of this stupid, useless plan that maybe, sort of felt like it might be worth it back in Japan, and now no one had any idea what to do, except to not be at the Gisting, when they'd come so far to reach it. He could hear Matvei laughing at him in his mind.

  The scent of blood shook him out of that. A glance down revealed he'd clenched his fist enough for his nails to cut into his own hand. Celeste would probably be annoyed, even if it just meant that the scars already there would just be a little bigger now. This was nothing new. He used a bit of the snow to clean up, and moved to gather wood. It gave him something to do, even if he'd really have preferred to chop wood instead, and vent on it a bit. The noise of that would probably bring attention on them though, despite Dagny's spells, and he wasn't about to risk that, no matter how much he was spoiling for a fight. Amidst the efforts, he came to a resolution.

  The others were already up, trying to help warm Nils by the fire, when he marched back into camp with arms full of wood. Dumping it next to the tiny firepit—all the light they were willing to risk with daemons and draugar about—he looked to his brother, "We're not leaving."

  "You're right, we're not," Nils said. That got odd looks from all three of the ladies in camp.

  Hobie stared at his brother. "I’m not sure that I heard you right."

  "This is what
I was waiting for Hobie to get back to say," Nils announced. "I don't think we're done here yet."

  "Everyone is done here," Dagny said. "This part of the world is done."

  "I think we can trust her when she says that the tower has fallen," Celeste said. "We don't need to see for ourselves. Especially with an army in the way."

  "I absolutely trust her," Nils said. "Which is exactly why we're not done here yet."

  "Now I'm not sure I follow," Dagny said. Hobie knew he wasn't following, despite a growing sense of optimism, even if he was the only one looking hopeful.

  "The tower hasn't fallen," Nils said. "It's still standing, and a little worse for wear. It was just conquered."

  "That is purely a technicality, and you know it, Nils," Noriko said.

  "And right now, we're skating by on technicalities and hoping we can turn them into something useful," Nils said. "But there's a little more to it. Hobie, do you remember where the Seal is, and thus the easiest place for Xharomor's cultists to start summoning things through?"

  Hobie nodded. "Sure, in the old linnorm tunnels, where the Burrower Wyrm first came through from the Otherrealm and challenged the gods. That's a great story. If it's important, we could get Dagny to tell it." Dagny didn't look much like she wanted to tell any stories just now, but nodded a bit in agreement as to the location of the Seal.

  “What's a linnorm tunnel?” Celeste asked.

  “A tunnel made by a linnorm, in this particular case, the Burrower Wyrm,” Nils said, and Hobie almost smiled at the glare that got out of Celeste. Nils had the sense to look a bit sheepish. “Er, those are Old Norse Dragons—and the Otherthings that resemble them. But linnorms are not the issue here. At least I hope not. The important part is the deep underground, in old tunnels, being the easiest place for summoning rituals."

  “But the more Seals are broken, the easier it is to get Otherthings through almost anywhere,” Noriko argued. “So how is the tunnel important?”

  “Yeah but...well...size matters. And now there is an actual empty area that is providing no resistance to very large daemons slipping in from the Otherrealm to the barrier realm. Things worse than literally anything we have ever seen could be slithering in there and crossing from there to the real world.”