To Be Chosen (24 page)

The Senior Soarer approached on foot while his associate remained mounted, following at about four horse lengths to the rear. “Lassiter, gladdened I am to see you,” Serin amplified his voice.

“Surrender now and this will not have to get bloody,” the Accomplished responded.

“It is definitely going to get bloody,” Serin replied and summoned the potential for a quarterstaff of solidified air, but waited until Lassiter launched a Talon Strike before creating the staff and knocking aside the first strike.

Lassiter fought with both hands and two glowing burnished-gold eagle talons swiped at Serin, but were batted aside with a twitch of a finger and a twist of the wrist as the burnt-amber staff, floated in front of him, responding to his every gesture. The Senior Soarer was experienced enough to know the only way to defeat someone with greater potential is to stay on the offensive, never giving the opponent the opportunity to strike back. He probably expected Serin to form a dome shield. In that case the Talon Strike would have enabled him to catch his prey and force him to remain shielded or be crushed. Serin placed a Da Capo on the staff and swung it in a blur, keeping the talons from snagging him.

Peripherally, he could see
Jordan battling the mounted Accomplished, who struck out with a spell that caused Simms to suddenly stiffen and fall down. Ah, Lock Joints, a good choice. As Serin fought off Lassiter, a magenta fire suddenly blazed to life beneath the horse, causing the equine to rise up on its hind legs. Solidified blades of air struck, slicing and re-slicing bloody chunks as the creature collapsed along with its rider, and then tumbled down the hill, and out of sight. Olivia did a fine job of transitioning from Spark The Flame to Blades Of Air.

She came out from hiding and looked to where the Accomplished and his steed had fallen. A ball of fire shot down the hill and struck whatever she was aiming at. She shrugged her shoulders and turned to face Serin. “My apologies Team Leader, the only thing recognizable under all that flesh is an arm protruding from the pile. I incinerated the hand and there was no reaction. I know you wanted him alive. Killing him was an accident. I was aiming at the horse,” her amplified voice sounded over the distance. 

Jordan was getting to his feet, showing the spell holding him was gone, and Simms joined his ally at the top of the hill.

Lassiter shouted something inarticulate and lashed out in a fury. One Talon Strike lacerated the ground, leaving a deep gouge. Serin did not need a crescendo for his next move. He summoned the potential while manipulating the staff, twin beams of burnt-amber light shot from his eyes and struck the Senior Soarer, who stiffened and fell. The Talons vanished. Serin never lost focus, keeping the beams on his victim all the way to the ground. Ten heart beats and Lassiter began to scream, twenty heart beats, and every hair began falling from his body.

The Soarer’s silks were obscuring Serin’s view so he placed a Da Capo on, Condemnation, and cast, Unwrap, to strip off all but the cloak, and then went to work on designing a new Lassiter. This was Serin’s first condemnation and he wanted it to be special. There was no need for the ears, so they were discarded, actually ripped away. The screams were delightful. His victim writhed on the ground. Serin began reshaping the skull, bringing the jaws forward, molding the nose, adjusting the eyes, forming the head of an eagle. He then began reshaping the feet, forming them into talons, and was quite pleased with the result. “Stand,” he commanded, and the Condemned obeyed, awkwardly at first, but the talons worked much the way an eagles did.

Serin tore away the two lightning bolts from Lassiter’s shoulders and caused skin about the neck and shoulders to grow into and mesh with the silk cloak, making it a permanent part of his new creation. “Run to me,” he commanded, and Lassiter came running, the black and crimson cloak billowing out behind him like wings. That and his ebony skin made him look more like a giant bloody raven rather than an eagle, but the image was good enough. Serin finished the job by leaving Lassiter neither male nor
female.

Jordan and Olivia were staring at him as if seeing him for the first time. “That’s right. The Supreme Maestro has expanded my education. You are both in the presence of the next Maestro of the Serpent Guild,” he told them.

Olivia dropped to the ground and then looked up at him. “I am yours to command, how may I serve?”

Jordan
followed her example. “So that is why the great Tarin Conn wanted you freed. I too am yours to command.”

Serin relished the moment and knew there would be many more just like it to come, when he would snatch members away from Vance Cummin. “Rise, we have work to do,” he said and glanced at Lassiter, who had finally stopped screaming and was now simply waiting for orders. “Back to East Hill, all of you,” he added and picked up Lassiter’s instrument, baton, and amulets, then led his team into his lair.

“Jordan, this clarinet is for you,” he said and handed over the case.

Simms accepted the instrument as his face contorted in astonishment. “But this crescendo is not of my making.”

“Olivia, this baton is for you,” Serin announced and gave her the level two crescendo.

Her eyes stared at it as if seeing that which is forbidden,
yet very much desirable. “Why?”

“The custom of each Accomplished only using a crescendo of his or her own making is not one that needs to be continued. None of us are ever to be looked down upon for using amplifiers greater than our ability to make. We all lust after the crescendos of the Supreme Maestro and are not ashamed because with them we gain so much more power, yet all the lesser ones collected over the centuries by our Maestros after capturing multi-bolted Accomplisheds are stored away, never to be used. Well, under my leadership, those who serve me will be given the use of superior crescendos. With what I have given you, three bolts of potential are now at your command, more than doubling the power you had. Give me tens of thousands of One-bolt Accomplisheds with crescendos level two and above and I will give you the world.”

“So let it be!” his two followers shouted.

It did not take long to contact his associates, even though the amulets here only represented a third of his network. His Nest in the southern Foothills of Pentrosa, five spans north of the border with Ducaun, is where he needed to go, the rest of
his amulets were stored there.

“Jordan, Olivia, Raven,” his new name for Lassiter, “come, we are finished here.”

They gathered in a circle. “Raven, concentrate on the notes I am about to play and send the potential into me,” Serin instructed. There was no point in allowing two bolts of potential to remain dormant. He played his piccolo, Jordan used the clarinet, and Olivia took up the level-two baton, and Serin conducted the spell, Teleportation. Three heart beats later they were in Pentrosa.

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Daniel Benhannon felt a sudden release of pressure in his head and knew the shield on Serin Gell’s potential was gone. Either the Pentrosan was dead or he somehow managed to garner enough potential to break the shield. He made a mental note to make some inquires to find out which scenario occurred.

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Samuel opened his eyes. Sunlight filtered in through the wooden slats of the door. He was in a bed, his chest hurt every time he drew a breath, and his right hand ached something fierce. He raised his arm, found a bandage where his hand used to be, and realized it was a phantom pain and the encounter actually happened, not just a bad dream. His chest was bandaged as well and other than that, he was naked under the linen sheet. Where was he? Where were his silks? Who helped him and where is Lassiter? The questions kept coming, filling his mind.

“I see you are awake,” said a deep male voice over to the left.

Samuel turned his head. “Where am I?” he asked a heavy-set man who was completely bald.

“Lad, you are in the back room of my butcher shop. I am Grover Lathem. And I found you out near the haunted hills,” the man replied. His pants and shirt were gray and he wore a red apron, which was not unusual for a man of his stated profession.

Samuel felt as weak as a day old hatchling. “How long have I been here?”

“I brought you here three days ago. We felt those invisible waves, the same kind that was shaking the land when Daniel Benhannon from Tannakonna way was tangling with them Accomplisheds of the Serpent Guild, except the ones we felt the night I found you were not so intense. I felt the waves, there were flashes of light, and agonizing screams coming from those cursed hills
north of the town. The waves came one more time and then every thing got real quiet, so I went out to see what happened. Well, I went as far into the haunted hills as I dared, and then saw a pile of fresh horse meat. As I said, I am a butcher and it seemed a shame to let all that prime meat go bad, so I fetched my wagon with the thought of shoveling it in so I can clean and sell what’s edible. I found you under the pile.”

Samuel hated hearing Salsa being referred to as a pile of meat, but he was an Accomplished and had a duty to perform, he would mourn her later. “Did you find anyone else, a man with
Taracopian features and Ecoppian height and coloring?”

Grover shook his head. “No, can’t say that I did. You were the only soul out there. Sorry about your hand. When I found you, all that was sticking out of the meat pile was an arm with a hand blackened to the bone. You lost a lot of blood but the fire that burnt your hand cauterized the area just above your wrist; else you would have bled out.”

No wonder he was feeling so weak. “You sound like a man used to dealing with such wounds,” Samuel commented while pondering what might have happened to his mentor.

Grover smiled and thumped his chest. “I spent twenty years as an Aid Provider for the
Royal Cavalry, earned my pension, and opened this shop. I’ve seen plenty of wounds like yours. I had to take the hand, infection and rot would have set in and killed you otherwise.”

“I understand,” Samuel assured him. He wanted to scream about the unfairness of having lost his hand but he was too worried about Lassiter.

“You were covered in blood and horse innards and your clothes are a mess. I had to clean you up just to figure out what all was wrong. You have four cracked ribs, probably from the fall and the weight landing on you,” Grover explained. “Other than that, the loss of blood, and the hand, you had nothing else wrong. My guess is you’ll be good and strong in a day or two, especially if I can get some meat into you.”

Samuel cleared his throat, it was dry and he was thirsty, but realized he was being rude. “I apologize for not introducing myself. I am Samuel Cresh, a One-bolt Accomplished of the Eagle Guild,”

“Please to meet you and don’t worry about appearing rude. I don’t expect people who are ailing to be at their best,” Grover replied.

“Can I have some water?”

Grover brought a full pitcher and a tall empty glass over from the table on the right side of the room. Samuel ignored the glass and drank from the pitcher, gulping down all of the precious liquid, enjoying the cool sensation running down his throat. He smacked his lips and held up the pitcher. “More?”

Grover’s eyes widened. “Where are you putting all that?” he asked while getting more water, bless his heart.

Samuel sat up in bed, grunting and holding his aching chest. “Aakacarns metabolize water many times faster than non-Aakacarns.”

In the end he drank four pitchers of water and then summoned potential, life force energy flowed into him and he focused on where his hand used to be. He could feel the skin growing over the stump, all warm and tingly, which was the best he could do. He drank another half pitcher of water and then summoned potential, this time focusing the tingling warmth on his ribs. The bones knitted back together and the ache went away. He started to remove the bandages from his wrist.

“Wait, you’ll start bleeding again if you do that,” Grover warned him.

Samuel shook his head. “Don’t worry, the flesh is healed,” he assured him and then removed the bandages. Smooth skin had formed over the stump, looking as if it had been there for years.

“Well, ain’t that something to see,” Grover said while scratching his head and eyeing the single golden lightning bolt on Samuel’s right shoulder.

Samuel let the sheet drop to his waist and unwound the large bandage. His chest was perfectly fine and had not a single bruise.

“You got some healing skills yourself,” Grover told him. “Had I known you could do that, I would have left your hand so you could heal it.”

Samuel shook his head. “You did the right thing. Re-growing skin, veins, and muscle to the degree necessary to save the hand is well beyond my ability. I did some healing in Bashierwood, but nothing like this.”

Grover smiled at him. “Was you one of the three Aakacarns from Aakadon that fought in the battle and helped with the healing?”

Samuel did not want to brag, but his part in the battle was no longer a secret, so he did not mind admitting to being involved. “Yes, I was there.”

“Well, I am proud to meet you and glad that I was around to pull you from the pile,” Grover said, his face was all smiles.

“Glad I am as well,” Samuel replied. “Would you bring me my silks?”