The Complete Chosen Trilogy (The Chosen #0)

by N. M. Santoski

  Nolan left his uncle's bedside only when Kuriyami threw him out, complaining that he stank of blood and fear.

  "You were just healed yourself yesterday. Take a shower and get something to eat before you come back here—because I'm sure as hell not healing you if you pass out from starvation!" she yelled before slamming the door to the Infirmary behind her. As it was a swinging door, it didn't really give the satisfying slam she was hoping for, but she got the idea across.

  Nolan took the fastest shower he'd ever taken and was on his way up to the dining hall to fill in the students and grab some food when Captain Selocrim waylaid him.

  "A word, Mr. Aeron."

  "I'm on my way up to--"

  "Now. In my office."

  He followed her obediently, almost as eager to find out who had done this to his uncle as he was to find out if his uncle was doing well.

  "Shut the door, please."

  He obliged her and sat down at the chair on other side of her desk, glancing around. The office was briskly efficient, but still bore some personal touches. There were pictures of the Captain in various stages of her life—after her Rite of Passage, missing a tooth but still smiling in triumph through the blood; in some sort of ancient castle, rolling hills behind her as she stood with a gentleman Nolan had never seen before; in her uniform, shaking Lord Artifex's hand as she accepted her Captaincy.

  "Mr. Aeron, I will be blunt. I am not sure I will ever discover the identity your Uncle's attacker. Whoever it was, they were very careful to use no numina whatsoever to accomplish their goal. Almost every student is claiming that they were in their rooms, asleep; the very few who are not all confirm each other's presence at breakfast."

  "There must be something we can do!" Nolan protested.

  Selocrim picked up a small paperweight from her desk and turned it over in her hands. "Mr. Aeron, do you know my affinity?"

  "I am afraid I don't, Captain."

  "I am a Power numina, like yourself."

  Nolan's surprise was obvious, though he tried to hide it. "I didn't know there were any other Power users in the building."

  "Oh, my Power is not as... pure... as yours; I am a descendant of the Power users who mingled with the Spanish conquistadors here in America, who had already mingled with the Native Americans. For some reason, these disparate strains result in a yellow tinged Power, like so." She jolted the paperweight, which filled with a lemony yellow light. "I highly suspect that the Native Americans have their own versions of our numina, gifts from their own gods, and it is that which makes my Power appear different."

  "What does this have to do with my uncle, Captain?"

  "I have alibis for everyone but you, Mr. Aeron."

  "You can't possibly think—that’s ridiculous!"

  "Let me tell you my theory, Mr. Aeron. I know your grandfather is around here somewhere, powering these baileys. I believe your uncle discovered his whereabouts, and you attacked him in order to silence him. I believe your grieving is an act designed to deflect suspicion."

  Nolan stayed silent, desperately trying to tamp down his fury. Against his will, he felt his numina attempting to surge to the fore to protect him. The hair rose on the back of Selocrim's neck, and she fought the rise of her own numina.

  "Discharge, Aeron!"

  “You first, Captain.”

  “You are certainly not improving my opinion of you.”

  “Likewise.”

  Nolan finally swallowed his Power with the greatest of difficulty. He felt the levels in the room drop dramatically and saw Selocrim relax.

  “As I said in the beginning of our conversation, I can't prove anything. Just know that I will be watching you, Aeron, as carefully as I have to. Step one more foot out of line...” She let the sentence dangle, but her meaning was clear.

  Nolan stood and bowed in her direction, face set. “I will be a model resident, Captain.”

  She watched him leave her office and head back toward the hospital rooms with her eyes narrowed.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was almost midnight before Nolan fell asleep on the floor outside the hospital room, exhausted both physically and emotionally. His fight with Selocrim put him on her radar, so he'd been unable to check on the Sword's safety, but he was fairly certain that if the attackers had found it, they'd all know it by now. He drifted off to sleep, his last thoughts of his uncle and who would do such a thing to him.

  The next thing he knew, he was being dragged to his feet by several sets of powerful hands and quickly gagged with a band of cloth. He fought furiously, but in his exhaustion and the mental fog of being brutally awakened, he was no match for his captors. They dragged him outside, still kicking and screaming against the gag.

  Manas Warrington was standing along the outer wall, flicking showers of dirt against the baileys to make them visible, a hard-edged bubble of blue against the night sky. "I never thought to see the baileys in this color in my lifetime," he remarked idly as the masked boys pushed him to his knees and one of them—Jonas Keller, Nolan finally figured out—called on the thorny branches of the rose bushes to help bind him in place. "All my life, my father has talked about claiming the Sword of the Nine for the Warringtons, and how Caer Anglia’s baileys would shimmer in warm gossamer orange instead of the cold blue of the Aeron family. We are so close to achieving our goal, but you seem intent on interfering, Nolan—may I call you Nolan? No?" He shrugged, indifferent. "We went to talk to your uncle, but he was also insistent that you both knew nothing of the Sword's whereabouts, or the creator of the baileys.”

  He walked closer to Nolan, and Jonas tightened the thorns in warning as Nolan attempted to surge forward, fury on his face.

  "Ungag him, someone," Manas commanded. "It's so boring having a one sided conversation."

  "I'll kill you for this," Nolan said the moment the gag was free. "My uncle and I are innocent men—you can't just do whatever you want!"

  "Oh, I think you'll find that in our world, I can. My father carries quite a bit of cachet in our sphere, Mr. Aeron. Not quite as much as your grandfather carried in his day, but he's certainly close. We brought you out here for a very specific purpose."

  "And what is that?" Nolan prompted when Manas seemed to be waiting for a response.

  "I'm glad you asked!" he said with a smile. "You see, my friends here and I have a little wager going. I believe that you are in possession of the Sword and the creator of these baileys. My friends think that your grandfather is around here somewhere, controlling the baileys from the outside. Since we can't trust your word, we have to do something of an experiment, if you will, to prove the point one way or the other. We are going to push you, head first, into the baileys. If you pass through without losing the top of your skull, we can safely assume that you are the Swordsmith, and we will have another conversation about the Sword's whereabouts—perhaps we will ask your lovely uncle to join us once again. If you die, we'll know that your grandfather is still alive, and adjust our plans accordingly. That wraps things up neatly, doesn't it?"

  "Gloating doesn't look good on you," Nolan said.

  "Enough talk, I think. Commence the experiment!"

  As Jonas moved forward to unbind him, another voice joined the conversation.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Pyrrhus! Old friend, I'm glad to see you," Manas said with a smile. "We're about to prove our theory correct, I'm so glad you could join us."

  "Pyrrhus..." Nolan said quietly, arms and chest bleeding through his clothes from the thorns.

  "Tipping your hand so soon, Manas? That's unlike you—you Warringtons play everything so close to the chest."

  "Yes, well, the time was ripe, you know? A sort of... spring cleaning."

  "I can't let you kill him, Manas."

  "He won't die. I can guarantee it."

  While he was arguing with Manas, Pyrrhus made a small hand motion in Nolan's direction.

  "Can you really? Do tell."

  "We've had this discussion before.
Stop trying to stall me. Push him through!"

  Jonas released the thorns, and Nolan saw his chance. He brought a handful of Power upwards in a blur, smashing into the small of Jonas's back and dropping him like a stone. He quickly turned on the other captor. His grunt of pain as Nolan's fist connected with his nose identified him as Angus, not that Nolan was surprised. It all happened so quickly that Manas was still trying to get around Pyrrhus to pursue by the time Nolan had disappeared back into the building.

  "You idiot!" Manas shouted at Pyrrhus, pushing him. "We could have known for sure!"

  "I may not like the older Aeron, Manas, but I'm not going to let you kill the kid just because he's related," Pyrrhus said, trying to sound reasonable. "I know you're ‘sure’ that he's the Swordsmith, but I'm not. And until I am, I'm just not willing to take the chance that you'll kill him for no reason."

  Manas brushed by Pyrrhus, still scowling. "You can't stop me forever, Pyrrhus. And even if you could—do you really think I'm the only person after him? Get up, you idiots!" he shouted at Jonas and Angus, still lying on the ground. Angus complied, his nose still spitting blood in every direction, but Jonas stayed down.

  "Jonas?"

  "I can't feel anything below my chest," he chattered out from his position on the ground, still jittering from the shocks of Power in his system. "I can't tell if the bastard paralysed me, or if it's just pins and needles.

  "Shit." Manas dropped to his knees next to Jonas, actual concern on his features. "Pyrrhus, go get Kuriyami."

  "I’m sure she's asleep—she worked on Jenkins all day."

  "Then wake her up!" he roared, patience snapping. "If not her, bring the blonde bitch, I don't care! Drag her here by her hair if you have to!"

  Pyrrhus complied, only because he hoped that Nolan hadn’t truly paralysed Jonas—he didn’t care, but Nolan would. He went right for Liz, knowing that Kuriyami would be down for the count after leading the Healing on Jenkins earlier. When his incessant knocking on her door didn’t produce an answer, Pyrrhus simply burned a hole through the door and unlocked it himself, striding inside to the startled screams of the room’s sole conscious occupant.

  “Pyrrhus!”

  “Stop ignoring my knocks and get out here—Jonas is hurt.”

  “I’m too tired,” Liz said, sulking. She shrieked when Pyrrhus grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her from her desk chair.

  “Not as tired as Kuriyami, I see,” he said, nodding toward her sleeping form, “so you’re it. Let’s go.”

  “What happened?” she asked as she stumbled along behind him, barely keeping pace with his long strides.

  “They tried to kill Nolan; he defended himself, now Jonas can’t feel his legs.”

  Liz stopped dead in the doorway to the garden, horror written all over her face. “I can’t pull excess electricity from a nervous system in this condition! I’ll end up killing him!”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Manas interrupted, standing from his position by Jonas’s head to tower over her. “He needs medical attention, now.”

  Liz bit her lip. “Can I at least do a diagnostic first?”

  “By all means.”

  Liz turned the still shivering Jonas gently onto his side, probing his back with glowing fingers. They were all quiet as she worked, Angus still trying to hold back the blood that had barely slowed since he was first hit.

  “What is it? What did he do to me?” Jonas asked, trying to see what she was doing.

  “It looks like the spine is intact... the muscle groups are okay, maybe just some light bruising. It’s the active Power numina he’s left in you that’s causing the problem. Since he didn’t release it, it’s still his to command until it disperses naturally.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “With the natural electricity in the body to feed off of, it could take weeks, or even months, depending on how much he put into it. A better bet would be to ask Nolan to release it for you, but I have a feeling that isn’t an option, is it?”

  “Why would he help someone he hurt?” Manas scoffed.

  Liz rose, dusting off her hands. “There’s nothing more I can do for you, Jonas—you’ll have to wait it out. I suggest you get Angus...” She trailed off, seeing Angus’s nose for the first time. “Angus! What happened?”

  “At oo ou tink?” he snarled through the blood.

  “Nolan?”

  He nodded furiously.

  “Well, I’ll heal your nose, at least. Then you’ll be able to carry Jonas upstairs to his room. We’ll have to talk to Dr. Castillo—she’s the highest-ranking teacher here with Jenkins out of commission. We’ll explain the situation—I’m sure the teachers will be willing to work with you outside the classroom.” Liz took Angus’s face in her hands, steadying her thumbs over his pulped nose.

  “Three, two,” she counted, and before she could reach one she pushed in with her thumbs, forcing the nose to straighten into its proper shape. Angus howled, but the deed was done, and Liz’s fingers were already busily knitting the tissues back into their correct form.

  He sniffed experimentally and visibly relaxed. “I can smell again.”

  “Good. Let me know if you have any trouble with it. Now, take Jonas upstairs, carefully. I’ll come with you... Manas, Pyrrhus, let me know if Captain Selocrim needs a medical report from me. I’m sure she will, especially if Jonas wants to press charges.”

  Pyrrhus bit down his indignation, only saying blandly, “I would imagine not—the circumstances certainly don’t paint Jonas in a favourable light.”

  The group was silent for a moment, the silence only broken by a hiss when Angus picked Jonas up.

  “Did that hurt?”

  “No, I can’t feel anything—it’s just weird that I can’t feel anything.”

  The trio disappeared, leaving Manas and Pyrrhus to face each other across the garden.

  “I hope you know that Aeron can never show his face here again,” Manas said casually. “You’d better drop any thoughts you had of supporting him.”

  Pyrrhus shrugged. “If it’s as you say, Manas, the baileys will drop sometime tonight—only a fool would stay here after this. If he’s smart, he’ll be long gone by morning.”

  Manas stared at Pyrrhus for a moment, studying him. “I would think so, but I’ve learned from listening to my father that the Aerons are not to be underestimated.”

  “John Aeron fled at the first sign of trouble—if his grandson is so much like him, I’m sure he will take this opportunity to go.”

  “Perhaps.” Manas was quiet for a moment. “I am going to go report to Captain Selocrim about the incident. Come if you wish, it doesn’t matter to me.”

  “I’d better—just to make sure everything is remembered correctly. I’d hate to have your memory falter.”

  “Mmhmm. As I said, it’s your decision.”

  Pyrrhus pushed off the wall and made for the door. “Let’s hope she’s in a good mood.”

  She wasn’t. Still recovering from her earlier incident with Nolan, she was incensed to find what she considered a third victim in one day of Nolan Aeron’s impetuousness. “This has gone far enough,” she said firmly. “I will have to discuss it with Dr. Castillo, but I will advise her to declare Nolan Aeron dangerous, and authorize the students to attack him on sight with intent to capture. He needs to be put on trial for these accusations.”

  “Would you like us to form a team to search for him?” Manas asked. “I know several people—“

  “That will not be necessary. The building is only so large. If the baileys remain up, it is my understanding that he is still in the building. He is obviously in collusion with whoever raised them, so it stands to reason that this person would lower them at his request. We will watch for him carefully. He’ll need to eat, at the very least—we should be able to track him somehow. Worst case scenario...”

  “Yes?” Pyrrhus prompted.

  “Worst case scenario, he manages to hide out until the Rite of Passage and we
get him there. He will need to compete in the Rite of Passage to be declared a fully adult numen, and if he is John Aeron’s heir, he cannot be officially made Lord Younger Fulmen until that day.”

  “What if he were already the Swordsmith?” Manas asked. “Would he have to compete?”

  Selocrim thought for a moment, clearly startled. “Yes and no,” she said finally. “The Sword, once claimed, cannot be unclaimed. He cannot be unmade the Swordsmith. However, until he is legally an adult in the eyes of the Council, they can declare him unfit to make his own decisions and invalidate anything he does.”

  “Does he have to win?” Pyrrhus asked.

  “No—no one ever has to win. They have to compete to the best of their ability. That’s all. Either way, Aeron must be found. I will go to Castillo and give her the news, then to Keller’s room and get a deposition from the three students there as to the damage and the situation. Perhaps an immediate sweep of the building would not be remiss...” She jerked out of her reverie, giving them a stern look. “Thank you for your swift report. You are dismissed.”

  “May I go to Jonas and let him know you’re coming?” Manas asked. “I’m not sure how disoriented he is at the moment—he may want to collect himself.”

  “Frankly, Warrington, I don’t care what you do,” she said with a sigh, waving them away.

  Manas quickly made his way up toward Jonas’s room, intent on getting their story straight. Pyrrhus, on the other hand, made his way down into the labyrinthine basement and found the room where he and Nolan first met.

  Nolan was standing there, arms aglow to the elbows with Power.

  “Oh, it’s you,” he said, extinguishing in an instant.

  “What the hell happened up there?” Pyrrhus said, clapping him on the back so hard he winced. “I thought you were dead.”

  “So did I, for a moment. It would have taken three seconds for Manas to suffocate me when I went through the baileys unharmed.”