The Complete Chosen Trilogy (The Chosen Book 0)

by N. M. Santoski

  Nolan took a deep breath and gestured for room. The few people that had crept forward after Manas' display immediately scurried backwards. He brought his hands together ever so gently and began to rub them back and forth, picking up speed as he went. Gia felt the hair on her head begin to stand up with the static electricity that was being generated by his actions. Suddenly, the friction yielded results-- strings of molten blue plasma began to ooze from between his fingers. He quickly changed tactics, resembling a taffy puller as he shaped the Power leaking from his hands into a crackling ball of light. He could have absorbed it back into himself, but his Power levels had been reaching almost obscene levels since his arrival at Caer Anglia, and they were waiting for release. He spied a hunk of Manas' dirt chair still standing at one end of the room, away from the other students, and immediately sprung into action. With the low height of the chair taken into account, he cradled the ball of Power in the crook of his arm and hurled it like a bowling ball, sending it spinning into the chair and disintegrating it. The crackling bits of leftover energy soared into the air, but dissipated before they could reach any of the gasping crowd.

  The applause was loudest of all, mostly because many of the people in the room had never witnessed a Power user in person before. Jenkins, too, applauded, though his applause was tempered by grief for his mentor and his brother-in-law. Seeing Nolan in the blue glow of an Aeron’s Power brought back far too many memories for his tastes.

  "Nicely done, Nolan-- back to your place, please."

  Nolan noticed many of the girls patting their hair back into place from the impromptu Van de Graaff demonstration. He grinned at Gia with relief and she grinned back, giving him a thumbs-up.

  "Now then," Sensei spoke up, perhaps sensing Jenkins' discomfort, "we all have an idea of what the others are capable, in the most basic sense." She began to pace along the front of the dais, knowing that she had their undivided attention. "Keep in mind, however, that the smartest of those who demonstrated today kept their best tricks to themselves—the element of surprise is critical. Though your assignment throughout the year will be to 'know thine enemy', your other, equally important assignment is to never let anyone see who you really are. Friendships don't matter. Lovers don't matter. Your survival depends on your ability to have one more trick up your sleeve than your opponent. For every technique you deliver in class, you should develop three more in secret."

  "Now that you've made them all paranoid," Jenkins interjected with a scowl, "I'd like to go over the schedule for the year. Over the next three months, we will systematically partner you with each other, ensuring that you've all fought one another at least once. Most likely, we will work in two different pairs a day—one in the morning, one in the afternoon. In late October, we will hold the traditional Drawing of the Names, in which you will discover your sparring partner for the Rite of Passage in June. We will also allow you, after that point, to choose your practice sparring partners for November through March. In March, we will pair you up ourselves with whom we deem to be your most evenly matched classmate from your opponent's numina, to sharpen your skills for June. Anyone who cannot behave like an adult or who attempts to influence the proceedings in any way will not be permitted to complete the Rite of Passage this year. Do I make myself clear?"

  Twenty-five nodding heads greeted his ultimatum.

  "Good. Now, I have you broken up into groups for a reason. I want you to work within your numina for the day. Nolan, you will work with me, since you have no other classmates, while Sensei keeps an eye on everyone else. Understood?"

  "Yes, sir," echoed around the room.

  "Excellent. I want each group to move to a separate section of the Atrium and begin working—I will let you know when you may break for lunch."

  The groups immediately began to gravitate towards the walls, while Nolan climbed up the steps to meet Jenkins on the dais. "Why are you going to work with me, Uncle Robert?" he asked, pitching his voice to avoid being overheard.

  "I used to spar with your father every day—I learned long ago how to capture Power in a way that won't kill me," he said wryly. "The energy you exuded before was impressive, but I got the feeling you weren't quite in control."

  Nolan frowned at his own hands, turning them over. "Everything seems almost too easy here—at home I always had to struggle to make the numina do what I wanted."

  "Caer Anglia has been home to numen for more than a hundred years, Nolan. The Sword has resided here for generations. The very walls have absorbed more numina than they can handle, and they have a tendency of feeding a numen's need." He gave Nolan a somewhat twisted smile. "If you believe this is impressive, you should visit Caer Fyrddin, in Wales. The walls there practically sing."

  Jenkins gestured for Nolan to begin, but he wasn't so easily distracted. "When were you in Wales?" he asked quietly as he began rubbing his hands together.

  "After your father... died, I was distraught," Jenkins admitted. "I spent three years in Europe on a Tour of some of our historical landmarks—Rome, Wales, London, Barcelona... " He grunted as he caught a ball of Power in a dotted web of water and slung it to the dirt. "Good. Again."

  "Do you have any information on Europe that I could borrow?"

  "Come to my office next week—it will take me some time to uncover them for you."

  A sudden crash from the other side of the room arrested everyone's attention. Jonas was struggling to his feet, a mortified Claire trying to help.

  "Jonas, I'm so sorry!" she practically wailed. "Everything's so much more sensitive here!"

  He shrugged off her help and tried to order her vines to release him. To his surprise, they only coiled all the more tightly around him.

  "Claire, pull them back," Sensei said.

  She closed her eyes and raised her hand to him, fingertips slightly spread. Slowly, the vines began to withdraw, coiling around Claire's feet in a pile.

  "Lesson number one," Sensei said finally. "Just because you control a specific numina, doesn't mean two numen can control it at the same time. In fact, it's a fairly good rule of thumb in covert situations—if you try to control a vine, for example, and it refuses to comply, there's someone else in the area already controlling it."

  "Stop gawking," Jenkins finally snapped. "Back to work, and be careful!"

  "That was torture," Noel groaned as they left the Atrium to shower before dinner, shaking ashes from her clothes. "That idiot Elliot almost took my head off with his fireball—he ruined my jeans."

  "At least your jeans can be replaced," Gia pointed out as they climbed up to their rooms to shower. "Your head, not so much."

  "Were you watching Aeron?" Noel asked quietly. "He looks strong."

  Claire nodded, but Gia bit her lip. "He really kept Proctor Jenkins on his toes."

  "He was amazing," a third voice chimed in, starling them all. Leiani had joined them on the stairs without their noticing. "You can tell he's a real Lord."

  "Like his brother?" Gia asked acerbically, picking up the pace. Leiani matched them stride for stride.

  "Alan is an impressive Aqua numen and a member of one of the Nine Families, it's true, but there's something about a man who's a Lord in his own right that just..." She allowed a shiver to run through her and grinned, her eyes glinting in the dim hall lighting. "I'm sure you know what I mean."

  "Nolan may not be a Lord of anything. We haven't seen the Sword since his arrival. If it hasn't chosen him, he isn't on the Council," Gia snapped back just to be contrary, reaching the door to their room and putting her key into the lock with a bit more force than was absolutely necessary. Noel and Claire, she noticed, had abandoned her a few rooms back.

  Cowards, she thought bitterly, heading straight down the hall for the bathroom to claim the last open shower. Leiani, as usual, looked as if she'd spent the day at a salon instead of battling three other Water users. She could wait.

  A knock on the door at almost the moment she was dressed saved Gia the trouble of trying to produce some s
ort of small talk with Leiani—they’d disliked each other for fifteen years, and sharing a room wasn't about to change that now. Angus was on the other side of the door, looking disgruntled. "Can I talk to you?" he asked abruptly the moment the door opened.

  "Sure... let me get my shoes, we'll go up to the roof deck."

  He stood in the doorway and fidgeted while she slipped into her flats and grabbed her keys, pulling the door shut behind her. They were quiet all the way up to the deck, and only when they were safely alone did he finally speak.

  "I don't trust Aeron—I don't think it's wise to spend so much time with him."

  Gia turned from where she was surveying the forest to gape at him. "Angus, really? He's just a numen like the rest of--"

  "He is NOT like the rest of us!" Angus snarled. "No matter how much you may like to think that he's just another person to befriend, he's different, Gia. We don't really know him."

  "And how will we get to know him if we ignore him?" she shot back, hands on her hips. "He seems perfectly pleasant to me!"

  "Did you see him in there today? He summoned a ball of plasma big enough to obliterate that chair. He mocked Manas in front of everyone, and he's just too damn special to spar with anyone but his dear uncle. He's planning something, I can sense it." Gia saw his eyes take on the golden hue that signified he was dangerously close to shifting.

  She took a deep breath, trying to stamp down her growing anger. "First of all, he didn't mock Manas, he applauded—the only person who did so, I might add. He's the only Fulmen here—who else would he spar with? And it's only been four days! What, exactly, could you sense?"

  Angus pushed himself away from the wall and headed for the door. "I live with him, Gia. It's only been a few days, but I'm telling you—there’s something seriously wrong with him. If you don't want to listen to reason, that's your choice. I was hoping our long friendship meant something to you—that you trusted me." The hurt in his voice was palpable. "I never thought you'd be taken in like everyone else."

  "Angus, what are you--"

  He cut her off with a snarl, his hand on the doorknob. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me." He slammed the door behind him hard enough to shake the roof.

  Gia took a shaky breath and allowed her wings out into the night air for a stretch. She ran her hands over her face and flexed her wings to their full extension, pulling the bottom feathers through her fingers and settling them back into order. She replayed the previous few minutes back in her mind, trying to make some sense out of Angus' sudden ultimatums. After her entire wingspan was preened, however, she still had no answers. She gave her wings a ruffle and retracted them, then made her way back to the door. It was dark on the roof, and it was only when she put her hand on the doorknob that she realized it was now a crumpled hunk of metal.

  Chapter Twelve

  Friday mornings were a blessing for Nolan and Group A, who had a study period for the first half of the day. Still mostly exhausted from the long day of sparring yesterday, and without the enormous workload later months would bring, most of them took the opportunity to sleep. Nolan, tempted though he was to take a nap, took the time to find a number of books on topics he was interested in researching, including one on his grandfather and one on the Sword of the Nine. The librarian, Mrs. Williamson, seemed to be fairly lenient, as long as no one was being disruptive or using her precious books as pillows. On several of his trips back into the stacks, he caught Gia giving him searching looks, and Angus was refusing to look at him, again. Angus had returned to the room last night obviously angry, though Nolan had no idea why, and he hadn't been able to get a word out of him since.

  "Need some help?" a voice asked in a conspiratorial whisper, scaring him half to death. Leiani quickly caught the book he almost dropped and smiled at him. "Heavy reading this early in the year? Why, Nolan, you overachiever, you." She glanced at the book in her hand. "A History of Wales? That's rather dense, isn't it?"

  Nolan shrugged and tried to look noncommittal. "Just trying to find more Fulmen information—kind of at a loss, you know."

  "The Sword doesn't help with that?" Leiani asked, letting her voice slip even lower and stepping in almost uncomfortably close. Nolan managed to take half a step back before he ran into the bookshelf and had to stop.

  "I wouldn't know."

  "Surely you've at least seen the Sword," she pressed, eager for details.

  "Sorry, I haven't," he lied, hoping she couldn't tell. His grandfather had always seen through his lies. "I'm sure that will disappoint a lot of people."

  "I've heard that the Sword imparts all kinds of knowledge to anyone it deems worthy to hold it... perhaps we should look for it."

  "I wouldn't know where to start looking." Besides the false bottom of Jenkins' desk, he thought with a strictly internal smile.

  "It would be an adventure... Don't tell me you don't like adventures!" she teased, backing off for the moment.

  He let out a breath that was at least half relief and took the book back from her. "Being a numen is always an adventure," he allowed.

  "Did you miss being here, all those years?" she asked softly as he moved back toward the table piled with his other selections.

  He paused for a moment, obviously thinking about his answer. Without turning around, he said, "Hard to miss what you've never known," and walked away.

  He sat at the table for a few minutes doing absolutely nothing, staring into the middle distance as he pondered the deeper meanings of her question. He and his grandfather had always had an "us against the world" mentality that suited them very well in the times they were dealing with. Had his grandfather always been like that, or was it merely the loss of his son and his Seat that had forced his perspective to change? Would he want Nolan to stay aloof, preventing attachments that would only hurt him in the end, or would he want Nolan to become a full member of this oddly closed group into which he had been born but not raised?

  The truth was, Nolan would never know. Grandpa was dead, and his stories about Caer Anglia had never included his own past. He knew nothing of his grandmother, who had died only a year and a half before he was born—he only heard about his father and the tragedy of his short life.

  The small thump of a book landing on the table in front of him startled him out of his thoughts. When he looked up, Claire was standing there, a small smile on her face.

  “I thought you might like to add this one to your pile,” she said. “My grandfather wrote it.”

  “A History of Numen: The Chosen People of the Gods,” Nolan read. “Is it a good read?”

  “It’s thrilling,” she joked. “Really, though, it’s very informative, Nolan. It may help with your research.”

  “Is it that obvious that I’m doing research?” he asked quietly.

  “Only to a historian,” Claire winked. “See you at lunch.”

  Nolan picked up the surprisingly slim volume, turned past the table of contents, and began to read.

  “The historical value of the Sword of the Nine has never been in dispute—indeed, unlike most mythological items, one of its original recipients still walks among us. Known only as Alixandra, Lady Tempus, she is the first of the Nine to whom the goddess Juno appeared in the year 391 A.D. I was able to obtain an exclusive interview with the reclusive millennial, asking for the event in her own words.

  The Testimony of Alixandra, Lady Tempus:

  I was a Vestal Virgin of Rome, one of the last. Our chief vestal, Coelia Concordia, had been given the command by Emperor Theodosius to disband the order. I was facing the prospect of returning to a family I barely knew, a family who thought they’d been well rid of me when they offered me to Vesta at age six. My other option was to turn to a man named Herminius, a man who'd offered to marry me despite my devotion to Vesta. I had refused, of course—I was an embodiment of Rome's luck, and my chastity meant the city would be blessed. How wrong I was... yet how could I expect a man once spurned to accept me now? I retreated to a quiet spot outside
the walls of the city and began to pray to any god that could hear me for an answer to my dilemma. Juno, the Regina herself, answered my prayer. She appeared before me clad all in white, a peacock at her feet, with a naked sword in her fist that was glowing like the sun. Though her lips never moved, I heard her voice in my head clearly. I have a mission for you, daughter of Vesta. Will you accept?

  Though my emperor had decreed the old ways “pagan” and a crime, the goddess Juno was standing in front of me, entrusting me with a task. Like others before me, all I could say was yes.

  Touch the Sword of the Nine, and all will be revealed.

  I reached out with a trembling hand and let my fingertips brush the metal. Though it glowed white-hot, the sword was cool to the touch. My mind was suddenly opened. Juno’s spirit surged through my body. When I came back to myself, the sword was dark.

  You will live as long as the chosen heirs of the gods are on this Earth. It is your duty to faithfully record their names, their birthing and their dying. You will live a life of chastity and obedience, as you swore to Vesta, but you are mine now: a daughter of Juno. You will see the others as they are chosen, and you will record them. Know this: no pestilence will ever touch you, nor the ages wither you. Your life shall be your own, aside from my command that you know no man, and bear no children. You shall be the first and the last of my chosen heirs. These are my demands upon you.

  With that, she disappeared, sword still clutched in her fist. Over the next few hours, I would occasionally lose consciousness, witnessing different gods appear to their chosen heirs. Including myself, there were nine heirs in all, the last one being the heir of Jupiter.

  Jupiter appeared in the middle of a military camp somewhere in Further Gaul in the middle of an evening thunderstorm, scaring the poor centurion so badly he tried to run the god through with his own sword. Jupiter laughed, waiting for the man to right himself and realize in whose presence he was sitting.