Unchosen

by Jeffrey Cook

  Hobie, for his part, showed no sign of pain as they loaded him into the back of the SUV, only enthusiasm. “There will be more poetry, right?” Hobie said. “You can tell it to Celeste when this is all over?”

  “I promise to do my best at it,” Dagny said.

  “And you remember my letter to the council.” Nils wasn't even asking a question. He just needed to say it, Noriko figured.

  “Yes.”

  “And please say hello to your wife for us,” Celeste said, going in for a hug.

  “I'm sure I can work a hello from you in somewhere.”

  “Okay,” Noriko admitted. “No more stalling.” Time for yet another parting. Like they hadn't had enough. The defenders scatter to the winds indeed.

  Dagny reached back into her coat and took out a set of tiny black stones with tinier yellow stars carved on them. She cast them onto the ground, and the portal appeared. Blue lines of crackling energy shot from one stone to the next, and, at first, there was an empty blackness. The void turned to light, and African warmth emanated temptingly out to within a couple of feet of the portal, along with the smell of dust.

  Noriko helped Dagny get the sarcophagus through. Once she disappeared, Noriko had to admit she was looking longingly at the portal, as the cold of Norway hit again. She sighed, then reached to scoop up the stones and close the path.

  Celeste drove them to the port carefully, convinced not to stop frequently in the brief trip to fuss over the wounded only by the E on the gas indicator. Once they got there, though, it was Noriko who had to almost-carry Nils and outright carry Hobie onto the 12-meter motorboat that Dagny had suggested they borrow. Noriko had to admit to herself that being 'the physically capable one' instead of 'one of the physically capable ones' was exhausting. She simply also knew that everyone else was exhausted too.

  Once they were all settled for a while, she reached for her weapons, prayed, and felt the light. Then she stumbled on shorter legs to get her glasses back from Celeste.

  She spotted Nils freeing his hands from his covering of blankets and starting to draw on the air.

  Noriko gave him an odd look. "Sweetie, what, precisely, are you doing?"

  "Preparing the runes for navigation and faster transport. We're in a hurry."

  "I appreciate your dedication and all, but we could let the GPS and the motor handle that now."

  "Ah... right. Modern technology. Do you need anything from me?"

  "Yes... stay under the blankets and let Celeste work. I'm pretty sure I'd prefer you keep all of your fingers and all."

  “Okay. When I'm feeling a little better, I'll draw on the motor or something. Cut a couple days off the trip.”

  “When you're feeling a little better, yeah.”

  Celeste handled driving the boat, at least for a while. Nils looked out over the water, while Noriko, grateful to have some time in her normal form, rested in one of the passenger seats nearby.

  "So, Rhalissa. We've decided she must have Fragarach,” Celeste said. “She's not going to bring it back to the Water Shrine, because she's not. Where do you think she's going to be? The British Isles cover a lot of territory."

  "There's a lot of mystical places she could be holed up," Nils said. "But we can start investigating. Maybe back in Ireland, near where she started. Just, yeah, not the shrine."

  Noriko woke up a bit more. "Not Ireland at all. She went 'home,' but she's didn't go all the way home."

  Both of the others looked at her curiously. "Why do you say that?" Nils said.

  "Because as far as she's concerned, she has nothing else to prove there. And she doesn't care about mystic places, really. I guess she could use them as a battery, but really, why? Her favorite power source is so plentiful, as long as she's not that far from population centers."

  Nils's eyes scrunched up in that adorable sort of annoyance he got when he agreed with a point in the way he wished he'd thought of it first. "True. That narrows it down."

  "So let's keep going from there," Noriko said. "It won't be right in the middle of a city or anything. Too much to keep track of, and based on every confrontation we've had with her, she prefers things old school."

  "So, somewhere she can either take over a castle or something, or build one," Celeste said.

  "My money is on build. No shortage of castles, sure. But it's a lot more gratifying for the right kind of sadist to have a legion of slave laborers going," Nils said.

  "Right. So, we have suitable places for building, space for her to see things coming, but near population centers," Noriko said. "I have some guesses. But one top contender."

  "Which is?" Nils said.

  "Stonehenge," Noriko said.

  "I thought she wasn't likely to care about mystical places?" Celeste asked.

  “It's not exactly an Ise-level target,” Nils said, because of course he had to bring in the data. “It's not even the most magically fortified henge out there.”

  "I'm not saying she needs an ancient calendar—well, not for its usual purpose,” Noriko said. “Although Kirke did say she'd be counting the days.”

  “That's because of the prophecy,” Celeste argued.

  “Yes, but it fits together in terms of style. Which is my main point. She wants the name recognition, now that she's trying to terrify the general populace, among whom she's not exactly Baba Yaga. Stonehenge is perfect to grab a lot of attention. And that's, what, less than a hundred miles to London?"

  “Yeah,” said Nils. “Salisbury, in the West Country. Unfortunately, that's the opposite side of Britain than the one nearest us. We're going to have to curve around the island.”

  Noriko was glad to have a clear head and her glasses as they worked on programming the GPS. Then the days passed—not as many as should have. Nils had been right about drawing on the motor, ridiculous as it was. The girls took turns steering and resting, managing to get people into the interior cabin, out of the cold air. There were even onboard stocks to refuel the gas without trying to head for shore.

  Hobie was certainly the best sleeper, and Noriko didn't begrudge it. Celeste had said after all her candles and prayers, rest was the last component, and the sooner he was on his feet again, the better. But Nils got tired of watching him and would come out in his pile of blankets, over and over, for however long he could stand it. At least they could snuggle when it was Celeste's turn to steer.

  “So,” Nils said. “We subverted the Hel out of the prophecy on the King of Monsters.” He steepled his fingers as best he could, under the blankets and adjusting his Tainted hand. “So who's to say that Rhalissa really is the Soul Witch?”

  Noriko followed his eyes to Celeste and knew they wouldn't get out of this one with just muttering about D&D.

  “I'll say it, unless we find someone else, because you don't qualify, and neither do I.” Celeste looked straight out over the water.

  “I admit there are multiple points in which I don't, but don't dismiss yourself from consideration so fast, Celeste. The term could just represent spirit-talking instead of anything necromantic.”

  “I am not under consideration. ‘Breathing in the breathless, the Soul Witch will multiply her command through the days.' I don't do commands, Nils. I ask. I pray. That's it.”

  “Well, you have been expanding your horizons.”

  “Not that far, I haven't. And I will not. I am not the Soul Witch.”

  There was a slightly growling noise behind them, louder than the wind. Hobie had apparently woken up, managed to stand, and come out. “If she says she's not, she's not, Nils.”

  “Okay,” Nils said. “I'm not going to force anyone here to do anything. But we'll see how it goes. We've gotten this far. We'll see how it goes.”

  “Land,” Noriko said as she looked at the shore, at the bits of city lights. Obviously, they'd seen plenty of land, especially since coming into the channel, but the boat's GPS said the bit of shore now in sight was directly south of Salisbury. “So let's get in and find out what there is to find about Rhaliss
a and the sword.” They really would have to see how it went.

  22

  The Bright Side

  David Brian Smith

  David was still dealing with the fact that the world was full of monsters. There hadn't been much warning. A few news reports that people initially said were some kind of hoax, before Britain started literally losing touch with the outside world. After that, there was a lot more military presence coming and going.

  Just as people were both accepting there was really something out there and feeling like British forces had it under control, the monsters arrived. The soldiers, both the veterans, and the swell of people who signed up to help out, didn't hold up long. Guns, artillery fire, tanks, even planes and bombs weren't precisely useless, but they didn't precisely hold back the tides of whatever-they-weres either. Less than a week after the first reports, they'd been overrun, and cities fell.

  Some people, of course, were dealing with it very well. “Glad things are starting to settle down, at least,” some of his neighbors had said.

  “I hear foreign parts are handling it worse,” said some who once had been co-workers at the shoe shop and now were co-workers learning to help keep the stone and cement supply lines going constantly, while those more experienced in construction were working the excavators in Salisbury. “Here, it sounds like you can just put in your time and, if you keep your head down, you won't get stuck with the worst of it,” they'd said.

  David had seen some of the worst of it. At least, if the screaming 'test subjects' hadn't been the worst of it, David did not want to know what the worst of it was. He also knew that the witch running things hadn't bothered to check if those test subjects had spent this nightmare fortnight 'keeping their heads down' and 'not making trouble.' Granted, she had been especially quick and definitive on the ones who had spoken up.

  David had been trying to think about what could be done. It was hard to find other people who wanted to do anything, among the 'it'll all get better once more construction gets done' types, without getting hauled off by somebody in robes. He'd really worked at it, though, and found a few brave souls, including one from the quarry who helped haul stone to whatever the witch was building.

  The plan really got started when he learned that a friend who'd been in construction had managed to hide away a number of industrial explosives before all such things had been confiscated. The group had some salvaged weapons. They had scouted out the site, documented the patrols and checkpoints, and what times of day they were most likely to be able to be able to sneak contraband and extra warm bodies through, hidden among the materials in the back of a truck. While they weren't able to get into the lower levels, they also had a map of the site, and David's friend had advised where to plant explosives to do the most damage, in hopes both of inspiring more resistance, and, if good luck was on their side, drop some of the castle on the witch's head.

  It had been tough convincing anyone that they would do anything but annoy the witch, but they found enough volunteers willing to undertake the risky journey, and had managed to get at least vows of silence from the people who turned them down. That hadn't been hard. No one who was worth asking was under the impression the witch wouldn't shoot the messenger.

  The things had the port well blockaded, in part with the wreckage of warships that had tried to stop them. Now, the area was nearly dead, save the warehouses being used to store stone and building materials, including the warehouse that had once belonged to the shoe shop. David still had the key, and still knew where damage to a wall in the manager's office had exposed a hollow space, hidden behind a cheap painting. It had been the best hiding space he could think of for the bombs after his friend had passed them off, believing that, with his construction experience, he would inevitably end up taken to the work site. Four days ago, the prediction had proven true, and David hadn't heard from him since. Now, it was up to him to make sure the explosives made it into the truck, hidden among the other supplies, without drawing attention.

  He was in the midst of loading some of those supplies into the wheelbarrow, to be covered up with quarry stones, when he saw the small boat threading its way through the wreckage. He stayed out of sight, following his neighbors' advice and keeping his head down. The boat managed to get near the docks before a daemon patrol noticed.

  This lot were of the creepiest kind. Mind you, the rabid beast-monster daemons were terrifying. The people who were possessed by Something or had just a few twisted features still scared him. But the clearly pure-bred daemons who spoke like people nevertheless? Those did things to parts of the nervous system David didn't even know he had. This was especially true every time they spoke, whether in English or the words that made his brain want to shut down. The sentient daemons also tended to have the run of the place, while the people in robes kept the bestial ones on leashes. David, to his shame, continued to keep his head down as three of the talking monsters gathered where the boat was approaching.

  Suddenly, what looked like a pile of blankets stood and waved its arms, and one of the monsters beheaded another. The one that hadn't suddenly apparently switched sides grabbed the one that had, digging its claws in. That was all the time it took for a tall teenaged girl—taller than David, in fact—to leap from the boat and run the thing through. Aside from the fact the sword worked a whole lot better than tank shells, he was most struck by the fact that the leap from the boat came when it was still some seven meters from shore.

  Were superheroes real, too?

  The girl pulled the stained samurai-type sword from her target, then kicked the turncoat into the water. She then helped to guide the boat in, all in a day's work. David finally got up nerve enough to approach just as the young man she'd been coordinating with pulled himself slightly unsteadily onto the dock.

  "How did you do that?" David asked.

  The girl spun, leveling her sword. She stopped when, he guessed, she didn't see any robes or lizard features. "Who are you?" she asked.

  "David Smith, Miss." The Miss seemed fitting, or at least it seemed fitting to show plenty of respect to anyone who could put a sword through one of those things that quick. He shut up, however, when he saw the girl helping the pile of blankets out of the boat—a pile which turned out to have a reptilian yellow eye and a twisted leg. "You're not with...?"

  "With Rhalissa? No," the boy under the blankets responded. As he spoke up, the samurai girl helped another girl out of the boat, this one distinctly not samurai-like and with no visible weapons at all. After seeing something finally kill one of the things, he was a little disappointed.

  “I've detached the GPS,” the girl said, her accent some sort of American. “Turned it off to save the battery.”

  "Are more of you coming?" David said. "We could use all the help we could get."

  "I don't know how much help we'll be," said the masked, lizard-eyed boy. David had been a lot more comfortable when he still thought of him as a pile of blankets. "At least in the short term. But we're working on it."

  "Speak for yourself. One down, and the witch is next," came a more youthful voice from the other boy, the one busy shoving monster corpses into the water. His eyes were perfectly normal at first glance.

  David took a deep breath. This could go disastrously wrong, but anyone who could kill the monsters could make very short work of him, too. And it felt like it was about time something went right. “Welcome to either the West Country People's Front or the People's Front of the West Country,” he said wryly. Non-Samurai Girl grinned. The others mostly looked slightly confused.

  The group exchanged glances. "You shouldn't involve yourself," the samurai girl said. "This is going to be dangerous. But any information you have would be handy."

  "I'm already involved," David said.

  The former pile of blankets looked at the others, before glancing back to David. "Then let us handle the daemons, at least. We don't want to get anyone killed. Do you know where the witch is located? And, if there is some kind of resistance he
re, in addition to information, we need to know what resources you have. I suspect a distraction might eventually be useful."

  David glanced towards his wheelbarrow, loaded with rocks and explosives. "I think we might be able to manage that, if the others decide to trust you. I'll, uhm, mention the whole daemon-slaying thing." The operation felt a little less doomed. Not a lot less, he granted, but a little.

  ***

  David wasn't quite sure what the lizard-eyed boy, whom he eventually learned to be Nils, had done, but they passed checkpoint after checkpoint more easily than their initial planning had suggested they would. Sure, they'd taken pains to conceal themselves in the back of the truck, along with the baker's dozen men and women who hadn't lost their courage, but David had still figured their chances of making it to the materials drop-site was minimal. It had simply seemed their only chance. Riding shotgun, he had an excellent view as they were waved through each security point, usually with barely a second glance.

  "The hell?" the driver asked him, after the third easy pass. "It never goes this smooth. Never."

  David gestured to the back. "Told you, Charlie, the boy back there has some weird magic. I don't know if we've just got the devil's own luck now, or if he's gesturing and saying things about the wrong droids, but I'll take it."

  "I liked it better when I could have told you to go home and sleep it off, talking about witches and magic."

  "I'd take having a home to go back to."

  "Me too."

  The construction project was much further along than the last time David had seen it. While very little time had passed, Rhalissa's particular methods of enforcing devotion to the project had clearly been working. While there was a lot more to be done, the foundation was in place for a sprawling edifice, with evidence that there was a lot more construction being done underground. His lot had briefly discussed trying to get explosives into the lower level for a greater chance of collapsing large sections of the structure, but those had been dismissed. The patrols and checkpoints were just too numerous, even with the help of the four kids.