Xero Key
Flying high, spinning webs!
I think she is Mairon, undergoing some serious rehabilitation. God can resurrect a Valar if He so chooses.
Ring-Maker [Worm/Lord of the Rings Alt-Power] [Complete]
- Thread starter Lithos Maitreya
- Start date
- Crossover Users' Choice!
Voted best in category in the Users' Choice awards.
- Location
- Nova Scotia
This, this is what I meant. I mean, we know her power doesn't come from parasitic aliens. So my take on this is that Taylor is becoming (more like awakening) her inner Ainur due to both Eru rehabilitating a wayward Maia and his answer to the entities.
Lithos Maitreya
Character Witness
- Location
- United States
Just a little crossover omake I wrote while on a train. Please consider checking out @Marsyas' excellent To Walk in Shadow.
He didn't speak, but I knew he heard me entering. I'd left his ears intact, after all. And he had to know it was me—after all, who else would be visiting him?
The barred door rattled shut behind me. I crossed my arms and waited. I had time.
At length he sighed, and I smiled slightly at the small victory. "What do you want?" he croaked. He still didn't look at me, and suddenly I found myself wondering if that was an expression of defiance, or if he literally lacked the strength to lift his head.
"…Have they been feeding you?"
There was a pause.
"Didn't you tell them not to?"
"No. I'll talk to them. I'll be back in a few days to make sure they start."
Slowly, tremulously, his head rose. His chains rattled above his head as he used his arms to lift himself. "You're an idiot," he said, his sunken eyes seeking mine. "Why the hell wouldn't you kill me?"
I shrugged. "I grew up on Earth," I said. "They say Prince Corwin was never the same either."
Alec shook his head slowly. "You really are a shitty cousin," he grumbled. "Can't even kill me properly."
I rolled my eyes. "Spare me the dramatics. You know why I'm here."
"'Fraid I don't, cousin dearest. Unless it's to gloat, and you—for some reason—aren't the type. Can't imagine why."
I sighed. "Earth is gone."
He paused. Blinked. "Uh, destroyed?"
"No. Gone. Taken out of Shadow. Several Earths, ours included. And right at the center of it is the one you visited."
A muscle jumped weakly in his jaw. "I visited a lot of earths."
"You know the one. You had a Trump for it, didn't you?"
He swallowed. "If it's been taken out of Shadow—"
"Don't bullshit me. I'm not a fledgeling anymore, Regent. I know how the Trumps work. Where is it?"
He licked his lips. "Okay. I'm going to level with you. Getting in her way is a bad fucking idea."
I raised an eyebrow. "You're scared of a Shadow?"
He sighed. "This bitch isn't a Shadow," he hissed. "She's primordial Substance. Like the Unicorn and the Serpent. Why do you think I left that Earth in the first place? Take my advice, and forget about Earth. She could crush you."
"You said that about yourself," I said dryly. "Look where we are now. Where's the Trump?"
He met my eyes. Sighed. "Don't say I didn't warn you," he said. "The painting over my bed, in my old bedroom."
"I burned that. Try again."
"Let me finish. Behind it was another painting, bespelled to look like the wall."
"Found it, burned it."
He rolled his eyes. "Behind that, the wall was scratched up," he said. "Those scratches are a map of the room, and lead you to the Trump."
I raised an eyebrow. "Damn, that's thorough."
"Didn't want anyone finding the damn thing. It was a stupid thing to make in the first place—and stupider to keep."
"Yep," I agreed. "Your loss. I'll see you later, Alec."
"Don't die," he suggested. "I'd hate to miss the chance to kill you."
As I left the cell, I beckoned the warden over. He approached. "Yes, Milady?"
"When I ordered that he be fed," I said slowly, "was I unclear?"
He paled. "Um. No, Ma'am, but—"
"In future," I said softly, "when Cherie says one thing and I say another, you listen to me. Am I understood?"
He shuddered and looked down. "…Yes, Milady."
"Good. See to it that meals start coming properly." Without another word, I turned and left the dungeon.
Alec's old room was very much like him—poorly-organized, decently groomed, and possessed of an easy charm. That quality remained, even now, weeks after I'd ransacked the place. It was always hard to clear out the last traces of a son of Amber.
I went to the wall he'd indicated and examined the scratches. They looked accidentally placed, but Alec had always been gifted at the art of making things look like accidents.
Sure enough, after some examination, I was able to make out the details. Those were the walls, that was the bed, there was the desk, and…
…What the hell was that, in the middle of the room?
I turned and strode to the indicated place. I tapped thr ground with my foot, and the floorboards echoed. Unfortunately, since this was on the third floor and right underneath this floor was the open space the castle used for noise dampening, that meant very little.
I looked up. I was right under one of the rafters, which were pressed right up against the planks of the ceiling.
Well, Trumps were pretty thin, weren't they?
I reached up and gripped the rafter tightly enough that the wood cracked under my fingers. Then I pulled.
The wooden plank came apart in my hand and fell away. The small Tarot fluttered down slowly until I plucked it out of the air with my other hand.
I sat on the bed, shaking the splinters out of my hand as I examined the Trump. I'd thought it would be a place, but this was a person—and one I knew.
"Why the fuck," I said aloud, "did Alec have a Trump of my Shadow?"
Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I gazed upon the card, envisioning myself beside, well, myself. The city of Brockton Bay, behind her, seemed to come to life slowly, yellow windows flickering in a warm light.
The girl was armored in bright silver-white; probably some local metal. In one hand she held a sword, and the other shone like a golden star.
The trump at last grew cold under my fingers, and the girl came to life.
She met my eyes, and I found myself transfixed, pinned as if by a spear of fire. "Amberite," she said slowly. Her voice really wasn't very much like mine. Sure, we had about the same vocal pitch and range, but there was something darkly musical in her intonation. I'd never bothered with that kind of glamor.
"Hey," I said. "You've dropped out of Shadow. Mind telling me what's up with that?"
She considered me for a moment. "Why is it your concern?"
"I grew up in one of those worlds. My Dad still lives there. I like some people there." I shrugged. "I'm not a very good Amberite."
She smiled thinly. "No, you aren't." She held out a hand. "Come. I'll show you."
I considered her. "My family's always taught me not to accept helping hands, especially from people who resemble me."
She snorted. "You contacted me, Amberite."
"Fair." I reached out, took her hand, and allowed myself to be pulled forward.
I blinked. I was still in Brockton Bay… but the city was very different from what I remembered from my Earth. Silver spires of glimmering marble were interspersed among the more traditional spires, and the city seemed to sprawl much larger than I remembered.
But what immediately caught my eye was a single building, right where I remembered downtown being. The great tower, sparkling in the light of the morning sun as if made of silver and diamond, rose a solid mile into the sky—and at its peak, a great luminous eyeball, white and glowing like a star, darted hither and thither, casting its gaze all over the city.
"Like it?" the girl beside me asked. "Take your time. I understand it's a spectacle."
I blinked at her. Her left hand was using the hilt of her sword as an armrest, that golden star still shining upon her finger. Her gaze was fixed on me.
"This," I said, "is not what I left this city looking like."
"No, I imagine not," she said. "You left a human city, slowly crumbling. This is not that."
"Not crumbling, or not human?"
"Both." She passed me, walking towards that massive tower in the center of the city. "Come."
I shrugged and followed her.
As we walked down the street, I noticed what she meant by 'not human'. Sure, humans were walking along the sidewalks—and almost all of them gave the girl reverential looks or even bowed as we passed. Many of them looked at me, too, in a sort of confused awe. But they weren't the only ones. Small with pointed ears minged with them, carefully avoiding being stepped on or tripped over. Halflings, I guessed—I'd seen them in a few Shadows before now. There were Dwarves, too, with long beards and tangled hair.
But the Elves were unlike any of their pointy-eared cousins I'd seen in other Shadows. They were tall, beautiful, noble-looking, all the standard package. But there was a light that surrounded them, a halo, and their eyes and expressions were gentler than I expected of the arrogant pricks.
"I won't bore you with the details," the girl said as we walked. "But—"
I interrupted her. "Look, what do I call you? I can't just call you 'the girl' in my head."
She glanced at me. "I'd tell you to call me Taylor, but, well."
"Yeah. Pick something else."
She narrowed her eyes. "It's my city."
"Yeah, but I'm the guest. Aren't you supposed to accommodate?"
She rolled her eyes and turned away. "I have a few other names," she said. "None of them really fit anymore."
I sighed. "Will you stop waxing philosophical and just pick one?"
"Annatar," she said. "Call me Annatar."
"Cool. Annatar. Now, why are Earths dropping off of Shadow?"
"They are being illuminated."
I blinked at her. "Come again?"
She didn't turn to me, just kept walking. "What happens when you cast light upon a shadow?" she asked. "Does the ground disappear when the shadow does? They are ceasing to be Shadow. The light is touching them, and they are returning to light."
"…I'm trying to parse this," I said slowly, "and I'm not liking what I'm getting."
"You believe I'm conquering them." Her voice was soft. "If I were, would you fight me to defend them?"
"I might go grab an army first," I said, "but yeah, probably."
She nodded, still striding towards that giant tower. "Good. Hold to that. But, no, I am not conquering them. They are being used as staging areas."
"Staging areas for who?"
"Us," she said dryly.
I swore. "Fucking hell, woman—Annatar—give me a straight answer!"
She turned. Her eyes were dark. "A straight answer? Fine. Dagor Dagorath is coming, and we intend to fight."
I blinked slowly. "…That's your straight answer?"
"Dagor Dagorath," she stressed. "The Battle of Battles, the War and the End of Time."
"Oooh. Ragnarok."
She sighed. "If you insist on being Thor about it."
I paused. So did she.
"No," I said. "Bad Taylor."
She smiled. "I don't get the opportunity very often. Suffice to say, these Earths are where the host of Aman are landing in preparation. No one in these Earths is being harmed."
"No one?"
"Well," she shrugged. "Not unless they try picking a fight with the Ñoldor. But there's not a lot I can do to stop the Eldar sense of justice. Some of my fellows tried, once, and that's how we got the War of Wrath."
"…I have no idea what any of that means."
"You will." She shrugged. "Do you have any more questions, or can I get back to work?"
"…Do you need help?"
She smiled. "Keep your eyes peeled for anyone named Melkor or any giant spiders. Other than that, no, not now. Thank you, Taylor."
"No problem. Good luck. Try not to break the multiverse."
"Believe me," she said grimly. "I intend rather to fix it. You have a Trump to return home, I assume?"
"Of course I have a Trump to get home," I said indignantly. "I wouldn't leave Shadow without my Trumps."
"Good. Then farewell, Taylor of Amber, and good luck." She smiled the secret, knowing smile all seers are born with. "You'll need it."
-x-x-x-
Amber and Annatar
Alec didn't look up when I entered his cell. His hair was longer than I remembered, and matted to his skin with sweat and crusted blood.Amber and Annatar
He didn't speak, but I knew he heard me entering. I'd left his ears intact, after all. And he had to know it was me—after all, who else would be visiting him?
The barred door rattled shut behind me. I crossed my arms and waited. I had time.
At length he sighed, and I smiled slightly at the small victory. "What do you want?" he croaked. He still didn't look at me, and suddenly I found myself wondering if that was an expression of defiance, or if he literally lacked the strength to lift his head.
"…Have they been feeding you?"
There was a pause.
"Didn't you tell them not to?"
"No. I'll talk to them. I'll be back in a few days to make sure they start."
Slowly, tremulously, his head rose. His chains rattled above his head as he used his arms to lift himself. "You're an idiot," he said, his sunken eyes seeking mine. "Why the hell wouldn't you kill me?"
I shrugged. "I grew up on Earth," I said. "They say Prince Corwin was never the same either."
Alec shook his head slowly. "You really are a shitty cousin," he grumbled. "Can't even kill me properly."
I rolled my eyes. "Spare me the dramatics. You know why I'm here."
"'Fraid I don't, cousin dearest. Unless it's to gloat, and you—for some reason—aren't the type. Can't imagine why."
I sighed. "Earth is gone."
He paused. Blinked. "Uh, destroyed?"
"No. Gone. Taken out of Shadow. Several Earths, ours included. And right at the center of it is the one you visited."
A muscle jumped weakly in his jaw. "I visited a lot of earths."
"You know the one. You had a Trump for it, didn't you?"
He swallowed. "If it's been taken out of Shadow—"
"Don't bullshit me. I'm not a fledgeling anymore, Regent. I know how the Trumps work. Where is it?"
He licked his lips. "Okay. I'm going to level with you. Getting in her way is a bad fucking idea."
I raised an eyebrow. "You're scared of a Shadow?"
He sighed. "This bitch isn't a Shadow," he hissed. "She's primordial Substance. Like the Unicorn and the Serpent. Why do you think I left that Earth in the first place? Take my advice, and forget about Earth. She could crush you."
"You said that about yourself," I said dryly. "Look where we are now. Where's the Trump?"
He met my eyes. Sighed. "Don't say I didn't warn you," he said. "The painting over my bed, in my old bedroom."
"I burned that. Try again."
"Let me finish. Behind it was another painting, bespelled to look like the wall."
"Found it, burned it."
He rolled his eyes. "Behind that, the wall was scratched up," he said. "Those scratches are a map of the room, and lead you to the Trump."
I raised an eyebrow. "Damn, that's thorough."
"Didn't want anyone finding the damn thing. It was a stupid thing to make in the first place—and stupider to keep."
"Yep," I agreed. "Your loss. I'll see you later, Alec."
"Don't die," he suggested. "I'd hate to miss the chance to kill you."
As I left the cell, I beckoned the warden over. He approached. "Yes, Milady?"
"When I ordered that he be fed," I said slowly, "was I unclear?"
He paled. "Um. No, Ma'am, but—"
"In future," I said softly, "when Cherie says one thing and I say another, you listen to me. Am I understood?"
He shuddered and looked down. "…Yes, Milady."
"Good. See to it that meals start coming properly." Without another word, I turned and left the dungeon.
-x-x-x-
Alec's old room was very much like him—poorly-organized, decently groomed, and possessed of an easy charm. That quality remained, even now, weeks after I'd ransacked the place. It was always hard to clear out the last traces of a son of Amber.
I went to the wall he'd indicated and examined the scratches. They looked accidentally placed, but Alec had always been gifted at the art of making things look like accidents.
Sure enough, after some examination, I was able to make out the details. Those were the walls, that was the bed, there was the desk, and…
…What the hell was that, in the middle of the room?
I turned and strode to the indicated place. I tapped thr ground with my foot, and the floorboards echoed. Unfortunately, since this was on the third floor and right underneath this floor was the open space the castle used for noise dampening, that meant very little.
I looked up. I was right under one of the rafters, which were pressed right up against the planks of the ceiling.
Well, Trumps were pretty thin, weren't they?
I reached up and gripped the rafter tightly enough that the wood cracked under my fingers. Then I pulled.
The wooden plank came apart in my hand and fell away. The small Tarot fluttered down slowly until I plucked it out of the air with my other hand.
I sat on the bed, shaking the splinters out of my hand as I examined the Trump. I'd thought it would be a place, but this was a person—and one I knew.
"Why the fuck," I said aloud, "did Alec have a Trump of my Shadow?"
Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I gazed upon the card, envisioning myself beside, well, myself. The city of Brockton Bay, behind her, seemed to come to life slowly, yellow windows flickering in a warm light.
The girl was armored in bright silver-white; probably some local metal. In one hand she held a sword, and the other shone like a golden star.
The trump at last grew cold under my fingers, and the girl came to life.
She met my eyes, and I found myself transfixed, pinned as if by a spear of fire. "Amberite," she said slowly. Her voice really wasn't very much like mine. Sure, we had about the same vocal pitch and range, but there was something darkly musical in her intonation. I'd never bothered with that kind of glamor.
"Hey," I said. "You've dropped out of Shadow. Mind telling me what's up with that?"
She considered me for a moment. "Why is it your concern?"
"I grew up in one of those worlds. My Dad still lives there. I like some people there." I shrugged. "I'm not a very good Amberite."
She smiled thinly. "No, you aren't." She held out a hand. "Come. I'll show you."
I considered her. "My family's always taught me not to accept helping hands, especially from people who resemble me."
She snorted. "You contacted me, Amberite."
"Fair." I reached out, took her hand, and allowed myself to be pulled forward.
I blinked. I was still in Brockton Bay… but the city was very different from what I remembered from my Earth. Silver spires of glimmering marble were interspersed among the more traditional spires, and the city seemed to sprawl much larger than I remembered.
But what immediately caught my eye was a single building, right where I remembered downtown being. The great tower, sparkling in the light of the morning sun as if made of silver and diamond, rose a solid mile into the sky—and at its peak, a great luminous eyeball, white and glowing like a star, darted hither and thither, casting its gaze all over the city.
"Like it?" the girl beside me asked. "Take your time. I understand it's a spectacle."
I blinked at her. Her left hand was using the hilt of her sword as an armrest, that golden star still shining upon her finger. Her gaze was fixed on me.
"This," I said, "is not what I left this city looking like."
"No, I imagine not," she said. "You left a human city, slowly crumbling. This is not that."
"Not crumbling, or not human?"
"Both." She passed me, walking towards that massive tower in the center of the city. "Come."
I shrugged and followed her.
As we walked down the street, I noticed what she meant by 'not human'. Sure, humans were walking along the sidewalks—and almost all of them gave the girl reverential looks or even bowed as we passed. Many of them looked at me, too, in a sort of confused awe. But they weren't the only ones. Small with pointed ears minged with them, carefully avoiding being stepped on or tripped over. Halflings, I guessed—I'd seen them in a few Shadows before now. There were Dwarves, too, with long beards and tangled hair.
But the Elves were unlike any of their pointy-eared cousins I'd seen in other Shadows. They were tall, beautiful, noble-looking, all the standard package. But there was a light that surrounded them, a halo, and their eyes and expressions were gentler than I expected of the arrogant pricks.
"I won't bore you with the details," the girl said as we walked. "But—"
I interrupted her. "Look, what do I call you? I can't just call you 'the girl' in my head."
She glanced at me. "I'd tell you to call me Taylor, but, well."
"Yeah. Pick something else."
She narrowed her eyes. "It's my city."
"Yeah, but I'm the guest. Aren't you supposed to accommodate?"
She rolled her eyes and turned away. "I have a few other names," she said. "None of them really fit anymore."
I sighed. "Will you stop waxing philosophical and just pick one?"
"Annatar," she said. "Call me Annatar."
"Cool. Annatar. Now, why are Earths dropping off of Shadow?"
"They are being illuminated."
I blinked at her. "Come again?"
She didn't turn to me, just kept walking. "What happens when you cast light upon a shadow?" she asked. "Does the ground disappear when the shadow does? They are ceasing to be Shadow. The light is touching them, and they are returning to light."
"…I'm trying to parse this," I said slowly, "and I'm not liking what I'm getting."
"You believe I'm conquering them." Her voice was soft. "If I were, would you fight me to defend them?"
"I might go grab an army first," I said, "but yeah, probably."
She nodded, still striding towards that giant tower. "Good. Hold to that. But, no, I am not conquering them. They are being used as staging areas."
"Staging areas for who?"
"Us," she said dryly.
I swore. "Fucking hell, woman—Annatar—give me a straight answer!"
She turned. Her eyes were dark. "A straight answer? Fine. Dagor Dagorath is coming, and we intend to fight."
I blinked slowly. "…That's your straight answer?"
"Dagor Dagorath," she stressed. "The Battle of Battles, the War and the End of Time."
"Oooh. Ragnarok."
She sighed. "If you insist on being Thor about it."
I paused. So did she.
"No," I said. "Bad Taylor."
She smiled. "I don't get the opportunity very often. Suffice to say, these Earths are where the host of Aman are landing in preparation. No one in these Earths is being harmed."
"No one?"
"Well," she shrugged. "Not unless they try picking a fight with the Ñoldor. But there's not a lot I can do to stop the Eldar sense of justice. Some of my fellows tried, once, and that's how we got the War of Wrath."
"…I have no idea what any of that means."
"You will." She shrugged. "Do you have any more questions, or can I get back to work?"
"…Do you need help?"
She smiled. "Keep your eyes peeled for anyone named Melkor or any giant spiders. Other than that, no, not now. Thank you, Taylor."
"No problem. Good luck. Try not to break the multiverse."
"Believe me," she said grimly. "I intend rather to fix it. You have a Trump to return home, I assume?"
"Of course I have a Trump to get home," I said indignantly. "I wouldn't leave Shadow without my Trumps."
"Good. Then farewell, Taylor of Amber, and good luck." She smiled the secret, knowing smile all seers are born with. "You'll need it."
-x-x-x-
Blaze 7.2 will be arriving tomorrow.
- Location
- USA
So Annatar will eventually be building her own eye of Sauron and turing Brockton into an urban fantasy city. Neat.
Ah, nostalgia trip. I should reread that series.
Blaze 7.2
Lithos Maitreya
Character Witness
- Location
- United States
Many thanks to @Assembler, @themanwhowas, @fabledFreeboota, @Skyrunner, @BeaconHill, and ShadowStepper1300 for betareading.
Many thanks to @MugaSofer for fact checking.
On the one-week anniversary of Leviathan's attack, my alarm woke me to the smell of frying bacon and eggs.
This was unusual. Dad didn't get up early enough to have breakfast cooking when I woke, ever. Maybe I was being paranoid, but so many things had changed so quickly that I found myself growing nervous.
I carefully drew the covers away from myself and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My bare feet didn't make a sound as I stood. On my finger, Vilya was already shimmering in response to my feelings.
Rather than make straight for the bathroom and shower, I crept downstairs. The stairs creaked under my feet once or twice. Instead of fear, though, the sounds sent me into mourning. I'd never been so careless with Nenya.
At last I reached the base of the stairs, and poked my head out into the kitchen.
There was Dad, already dressed. His back was to me, and I saw his ring glinting in the electric lighting. The skillet in front of him was hissing and smoking slightly, and I could smell the delightful, sharp scent of greasy bacon, making my mouth water.
…Was he humming?
"Dad?"
He turned, startled. "Oh, Taylor! I didn't hear you get up. How did you sleep?"
"Well enough. What are you doing up so early?"
He shrugged, smiling slightly. "Lot of work to do," he said. "There's not much of a dock anymore, not that there was much business to begin with. Getting the guys new jobs and organizing them for repairs and salvage operations is my responsibility. Besides"—he jerked his head at the fridge—"getting fresh groceries is going to be harder now. I'd rather eat it while it's still good."
I studied him. "You're okay?"
His smile remained, but his eyes grew sad—but only slightly. "I'm okay, Taylor. Thank you."
Slowly, I nodded. "Good. Do I have time to shower before breakfast?"
"If you hurry. I'll save you… mm, maybe a quarter of the bacon?"
I grinned. "I'll hurry."
"Move your feet!" I ordered. "It's not a shield, and you're not a phalanx!"
"The hell even is a phalanx?" Sophia growled through teeth gritted in concentration.
We circled one another, wooden approximations of swords in our hands. The Wards had their own sparring mat in the PRT building, along with blunt training weapons. Sophia had offered to partner with me for swordplay, though she didn't know the first thing about the art.
And so now I was teaching her.
"Phalanx," I said, my eyes darting over her guard. She was a fast learner, I had to give her that. Her guard was clumsy, but complete. I could break it, but I saw no obvious holes to take advantage of. "A military formation used by the ancient Greeks. Wall of shields in the front, with spears poking through from behind. Sometimes with shields overhead to protect from archers. Sort of an infantry battering ram."
"What does that have to do with—"
"You're holding your sword too stiffly, and moving too methodically. We aren't on a grid, and you aren't a block of organized soldiers." I swung in a feint, and then whirled as her guard rose to block, dancing around her and striking her a glancing blow across the side. "It's a longsword, not a claymore. No need to carry it like a crowbar."
She grimaced. "I don't think I have a knack for this."
"I disagree." I struck again, this time a testing blow, and was pleased when she parried and even counter-struck. I danced away from the swing, smiling. "Your guard's making serious strides, and your cut's improving."
I deflected a couple more strikes, waiting. Then, when she overcommitted to an attack, I parried her blade away and delivered a thrust to her thigh.
"Still don't understand how you can do that," she grumbled, wringing out her hands where the shock of the parry had jolted her. "Your wrists are perpendicular to the hilt! How can you control it well enough to be accurate?"
I shrugged. "Partly, it's a sword, not a crossbow bolt. Doesn't need to be that accurate. And partly, just practice."
"You've only been using a sword for a few weeks!"
I smiled sheepishly. "Well… I've been practicing a lot?"
In truth, it felt like much longer than a mere few weeks since I'd first taken up the blade. Narsil's weight and shape had been familiar to me from the moment I'd first made it. The sword itself was new to me, but I felt even then as though I'd been using swords for many years.
I didn't really know what to chalk that up to, except talent or powers. And the question of my powers was still bothering me.
Sophia's eyes were narrowed at me in what, on someone else, might have been called a pout. "Fucking combat thinkers," she muttered.
I shrugged.
Just as we were about to cross swords for another bout, the monitors around the room flashed yellow and the alarm blared. I stuck my sparring blade under my arm and crossed to the side of the mat to pick up my helmet, Sophia at my heels, making for her mask. The door opened not long after we'd masked ourselves again.
"Miss Militia," I said, saluting her with my wooden sword. "You need something?"
"Annatar, Shadow Stalker," she greeted. "Yes. Annatar, Panacea is currently finishing her negotiations with the director regarding her Wards contract."
I smiled. "Great. It'll be good to have her." Amy had been in and out of Piggot's office for days. I was glad they'd finally settled things.
"In addition, Aegis has been recalled from his current patrol. When he arrives, Director Piggot wants to see the both of you. It's about Grue."
"What about Grue?" Sophia asked.
"Has Piggot heard back, then?"
Miss Militia nodded. "Apparently, she has the PRT's blessing to use her judgement on this matter. She wants to see you and Aegis about it."
"What matter?" Sophia sounded tense, now.
I turned to her. "Grue's probably joining the Wards," I said.
She stared at me. I couldn't see her face under her mask, and even her eyes, normally so expressive, seemed dark and impassive. "You're kidding."
I shook my head. "I know you have problems with him, but we need everyone we can get on board. I talked to him, and we worked out a deal."
She was staring at me. I wished I could see her face.
"What do you even have against him?" I asked. "I don't think you ever told me."
She took a moment before answering. "If he's serious about working with us, nothing." She sighed. "It's petty, I guess. His power interferes with mine. I don't like not feeling…"
She trailed off, but I filled in the blanks. Not feeling in control.
"I understand," I said. "Can you work with him?"
"Yes," she said, without an instant of hesitation.
"Are you sure?" I pressed.
"If you want me to, I can work with him." Her voice was firm.
I nodded. "Okay. Thank you." I turned back to Miss Militia. "Where is Aegis, anyway?"
"He was patrolling the south side of downtown," she said. "He should return shortly. I'll have someone text you when he arrives."
"This is a bit different from last time," Dennis drawled, his feet up on the coffee table.
"What," Vista asked. "You mean we don't have Armsmaster in the other room, and one of us isn't in danger of being kicked out?"
"I mean I was more thinking that Annatar wasn't a villain, but yeah. That too."
We were seated around the coffee table in the Wards' little lounge in the PRT building's underground—the very same room where, only a month and a half ago, I had introduced myself to the other Wards.
Amy raised her hand. "I'm not a villain."
"None of us are villains," I said. My voice came out a little harsher than I intended. "If we were, we wouldn't be here."
"Uh," Grue said, raising one finger.
"Are. Present tense."
He lowered the finger.
"Seriously though, Annatar," said Chris. "You're not expecting us to unmask in front of him, are you?"
"I'm expecting you to do what you can to make this team work," I said. "If you can't comfortably unmask, fine. But if you can, please do."
"Well said," agreed Aegis, and raised his hands to take off his mask. He set it on his knee and stretched out a hand to Grue. "Carlos Casiano," he said, smiling.
For a moment, I wasn't certain Grue would take the olive branch. Then, hesitantly, he reached up and took off his helmet, revealing the dark face I'd spoken to yesterday.
"Brian Laborn," he said, and shook.
"Amy Dallon," said Amy, with a roll of her eyes. "You all do realize how weird this is, right?"
I laughed as I took off my helmet. "Useful, though," I said. "And you all know me already."
Sophia, of all people, was next to follow suit. "Sophia Hess."
Sam was next. "Sam Keene," he introduced.
I realized in that moment that Sam, out of all of us, was the most seldom unmasked. Even among us, he seemed always more comfortable with his face covered. Receiving Ondoya had not changed this. But he had changed—the young man I saw now had an open smile upon his lips, and eyes which twinkled with life. It was a far cry from the closed, quiet boy I'd met in April.
"Well, seems like everyone's sharing." Dennis pulled his faceplate away, revealing his red hair and freckles. "Dennis O'Donnell."
Chris grumbled. "Fine. Chris Thompson." He pulled off his visor.
Missy sighed. "Missy Biron. What is this, show and tell?"
There was an awkward pause for a moment, before Missy prodded Dean's knee. He started, as if roused from a stupor, and immediately pulled off his helmet.
His eyes were red, but clear. "Dean Stansfield. Sorry."
"Don't be." Amy's voice was soft. Their eyes met, and I found myself looking away.
"Anyway, Grue." Carlos' voice broke the moment. "Have you talked to Piggot about rebranding? 'Grue' doesn't scream hero material."
Brian frowned slightly. "I kind of like this identity," he said. "It's—I don't know, it's mine."
"Did you choose it?" Sophia asked. "I remember I didn't choose mine. Independents get saddled with them, a lot of the time."
Grue actually smiled a little. "Yeah, I've heard of that happening. I did choose mine though. 'Grue' is Old English, means creepy or scary. Reputation's important, and the first part of building a reputation is a good name."
"You can do better than being named after an obscure Old English word," I said dryly.
He blinked at me. Then he grinned. "Yeah, I guess I can."
"You've got time to think, anyway," said Carlos. "You're not going to be patrolling for at least a week or two while the image department figures out what they want to do. I'm sure there'll be a press conference or something."
"What about me?" asked Amy. "I'm already pretty well established, and people will figure out I'm not with New Wave anymore pretty quickly."
Aegis shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I'm just the Wards captain—you'll have to ask your image guy, or Piggot. I doubt you'll have to rebrand, though."
"I might rebrand anyway," said Amy grimly. "I'm really tired of being New Wave's pet healer."
"It wasn't like that," I said quietly.
Her eyes met mine. I saw mingled there hurt, and grief, and bitterness, and determination.
"I know," she said eventually. "But I'm not a forgiving person, by nature."
"Does that mean you're not going to be volunteering at the hospital anymore?" Dennis asked.
"No, I probably still will be. I'll just, you know, be doing other things too. Why? You have someone there?"
Dennis looked away. "No, it's—" He sighed. "I know you don't take requests."
"His dad," I said for him. "Leukemia."
Amy nodded. "All right. I'll see what I can do. Which hospital?"
Dennis was blinking at her. "Uh. Brockton General."
She nodded. "I'll keep you posted."
"Amy," Dean said slowly, "you set that rule for a reason. Are you—"
"Rules," Amy interrupted, "are ways to hide from choices you don't want to make. A way to keep doors closed that shouldn't be opened. And that's good, if you have options you're afraid to take."
An image flashed in my mind at her words. A Ring of Power, quite unlike any of the others. I forced the thought away. That's my rule.
"I," Amy said with a tight little smile, "am not afraid anymore. There's nothing left to fear."
Please consider donating to my Patreon. Many thanks to those who have already donated.
Many thanks to @MugaSofer for fact checking.
-x-x-x-
On the one-week anniversary of Leviathan's attack, my alarm woke me to the smell of frying bacon and eggs.
This was unusual. Dad didn't get up early enough to have breakfast cooking when I woke, ever. Maybe I was being paranoid, but so many things had changed so quickly that I found myself growing nervous.
I carefully drew the covers away from myself and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My bare feet didn't make a sound as I stood. On my finger, Vilya was already shimmering in response to my feelings.
Rather than make straight for the bathroom and shower, I crept downstairs. The stairs creaked under my feet once or twice. Instead of fear, though, the sounds sent me into mourning. I'd never been so careless with Nenya.
At last I reached the base of the stairs, and poked my head out into the kitchen.
There was Dad, already dressed. His back was to me, and I saw his ring glinting in the electric lighting. The skillet in front of him was hissing and smoking slightly, and I could smell the delightful, sharp scent of greasy bacon, making my mouth water.
…Was he humming?
"Dad?"
He turned, startled. "Oh, Taylor! I didn't hear you get up. How did you sleep?"
"Well enough. What are you doing up so early?"
He shrugged, smiling slightly. "Lot of work to do," he said. "There's not much of a dock anymore, not that there was much business to begin with. Getting the guys new jobs and organizing them for repairs and salvage operations is my responsibility. Besides"—he jerked his head at the fridge—"getting fresh groceries is going to be harder now. I'd rather eat it while it's still good."
I studied him. "You're okay?"
His smile remained, but his eyes grew sad—but only slightly. "I'm okay, Taylor. Thank you."
Slowly, I nodded. "Good. Do I have time to shower before breakfast?"
"If you hurry. I'll save you… mm, maybe a quarter of the bacon?"
I grinned. "I'll hurry."
-x-x-x-
"Move your feet!" I ordered. "It's not a shield, and you're not a phalanx!"
"The hell even is a phalanx?" Sophia growled through teeth gritted in concentration.
We circled one another, wooden approximations of swords in our hands. The Wards had their own sparring mat in the PRT building, along with blunt training weapons. Sophia had offered to partner with me for swordplay, though she didn't know the first thing about the art.
And so now I was teaching her.
"Phalanx," I said, my eyes darting over her guard. She was a fast learner, I had to give her that. Her guard was clumsy, but complete. I could break it, but I saw no obvious holes to take advantage of. "A military formation used by the ancient Greeks. Wall of shields in the front, with spears poking through from behind. Sometimes with shields overhead to protect from archers. Sort of an infantry battering ram."
"What does that have to do with—"
"You're holding your sword too stiffly, and moving too methodically. We aren't on a grid, and you aren't a block of organized soldiers." I swung in a feint, and then whirled as her guard rose to block, dancing around her and striking her a glancing blow across the side. "It's a longsword, not a claymore. No need to carry it like a crowbar."
She grimaced. "I don't think I have a knack for this."
"I disagree." I struck again, this time a testing blow, and was pleased when she parried and even counter-struck. I danced away from the swing, smiling. "Your guard's making serious strides, and your cut's improving."
I deflected a couple more strikes, waiting. Then, when she overcommitted to an attack, I parried her blade away and delivered a thrust to her thigh.
"Still don't understand how you can do that," she grumbled, wringing out her hands where the shock of the parry had jolted her. "Your wrists are perpendicular to the hilt! How can you control it well enough to be accurate?"
I shrugged. "Partly, it's a sword, not a crossbow bolt. Doesn't need to be that accurate. And partly, just practice."
"You've only been using a sword for a few weeks!"
I smiled sheepishly. "Well… I've been practicing a lot?"
In truth, it felt like much longer than a mere few weeks since I'd first taken up the blade. Narsil's weight and shape had been familiar to me from the moment I'd first made it. The sword itself was new to me, but I felt even then as though I'd been using swords for many years.
I didn't really know what to chalk that up to, except talent or powers. And the question of my powers was still bothering me.
Sophia's eyes were narrowed at me in what, on someone else, might have been called a pout. "Fucking combat thinkers," she muttered.
I shrugged.
Just as we were about to cross swords for another bout, the monitors around the room flashed yellow and the alarm blared. I stuck my sparring blade under my arm and crossed to the side of the mat to pick up my helmet, Sophia at my heels, making for her mask. The door opened not long after we'd masked ourselves again.
"Miss Militia," I said, saluting her with my wooden sword. "You need something?"
"Annatar, Shadow Stalker," she greeted. "Yes. Annatar, Panacea is currently finishing her negotiations with the director regarding her Wards contract."
I smiled. "Great. It'll be good to have her." Amy had been in and out of Piggot's office for days. I was glad they'd finally settled things.
"In addition, Aegis has been recalled from his current patrol. When he arrives, Director Piggot wants to see the both of you. It's about Grue."
"What about Grue?" Sophia asked.
"Has Piggot heard back, then?"
Miss Militia nodded. "Apparently, she has the PRT's blessing to use her judgement on this matter. She wants to see you and Aegis about it."
"What matter?" Sophia sounded tense, now.
I turned to her. "Grue's probably joining the Wards," I said.
She stared at me. I couldn't see her face under her mask, and even her eyes, normally so expressive, seemed dark and impassive. "You're kidding."
I shook my head. "I know you have problems with him, but we need everyone we can get on board. I talked to him, and we worked out a deal."
She was staring at me. I wished I could see her face.
"What do you even have against him?" I asked. "I don't think you ever told me."
She took a moment before answering. "If he's serious about working with us, nothing." She sighed. "It's petty, I guess. His power interferes with mine. I don't like not feeling…"
She trailed off, but I filled in the blanks. Not feeling in control.
"I understand," I said. "Can you work with him?"
"Yes," she said, without an instant of hesitation.
"Are you sure?" I pressed.
"If you want me to, I can work with him." Her voice was firm.
I nodded. "Okay. Thank you." I turned back to Miss Militia. "Where is Aegis, anyway?"
"He was patrolling the south side of downtown," she said. "He should return shortly. I'll have someone text you when he arrives."
-x-x-x-
"This is a bit different from last time," Dennis drawled, his feet up on the coffee table.
"What," Vista asked. "You mean we don't have Armsmaster in the other room, and one of us isn't in danger of being kicked out?"
"I mean I was more thinking that Annatar wasn't a villain, but yeah. That too."
We were seated around the coffee table in the Wards' little lounge in the PRT building's underground—the very same room where, only a month and a half ago, I had introduced myself to the other Wards.
Amy raised her hand. "I'm not a villain."
"None of us are villains," I said. My voice came out a little harsher than I intended. "If we were, we wouldn't be here."
"Uh," Grue said, raising one finger.
"Are. Present tense."
He lowered the finger.
"Seriously though, Annatar," said Chris. "You're not expecting us to unmask in front of him, are you?"
"I'm expecting you to do what you can to make this team work," I said. "If you can't comfortably unmask, fine. But if you can, please do."
"Well said," agreed Aegis, and raised his hands to take off his mask. He set it on his knee and stretched out a hand to Grue. "Carlos Casiano," he said, smiling.
For a moment, I wasn't certain Grue would take the olive branch. Then, hesitantly, he reached up and took off his helmet, revealing the dark face I'd spoken to yesterday.
"Brian Laborn," he said, and shook.
"Amy Dallon," said Amy, with a roll of her eyes. "You all do realize how weird this is, right?"
I laughed as I took off my helmet. "Useful, though," I said. "And you all know me already."
Sophia, of all people, was next to follow suit. "Sophia Hess."
Sam was next. "Sam Keene," he introduced.
I realized in that moment that Sam, out of all of us, was the most seldom unmasked. Even among us, he seemed always more comfortable with his face covered. Receiving Ondoya had not changed this. But he had changed—the young man I saw now had an open smile upon his lips, and eyes which twinkled with life. It was a far cry from the closed, quiet boy I'd met in April.
"Well, seems like everyone's sharing." Dennis pulled his faceplate away, revealing his red hair and freckles. "Dennis O'Donnell."
Chris grumbled. "Fine. Chris Thompson." He pulled off his visor.
Missy sighed. "Missy Biron. What is this, show and tell?"
There was an awkward pause for a moment, before Missy prodded Dean's knee. He started, as if roused from a stupor, and immediately pulled off his helmet.
His eyes were red, but clear. "Dean Stansfield. Sorry."
"Don't be." Amy's voice was soft. Their eyes met, and I found myself looking away.
"Anyway, Grue." Carlos' voice broke the moment. "Have you talked to Piggot about rebranding? 'Grue' doesn't scream hero material."
Brian frowned slightly. "I kind of like this identity," he said. "It's—I don't know, it's mine."
"Did you choose it?" Sophia asked. "I remember I didn't choose mine. Independents get saddled with them, a lot of the time."
Grue actually smiled a little. "Yeah, I've heard of that happening. I did choose mine though. 'Grue' is Old English, means creepy or scary. Reputation's important, and the first part of building a reputation is a good name."
"You can do better than being named after an obscure Old English word," I said dryly.
He blinked at me. Then he grinned. "Yeah, I guess I can."
"You've got time to think, anyway," said Carlos. "You're not going to be patrolling for at least a week or two while the image department figures out what they want to do. I'm sure there'll be a press conference or something."
"What about me?" asked Amy. "I'm already pretty well established, and people will figure out I'm not with New Wave anymore pretty quickly."
Aegis shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I'm just the Wards captain—you'll have to ask your image guy, or Piggot. I doubt you'll have to rebrand, though."
"I might rebrand anyway," said Amy grimly. "I'm really tired of being New Wave's pet healer."
"It wasn't like that," I said quietly.
Her eyes met mine. I saw mingled there hurt, and grief, and bitterness, and determination.
"I know," she said eventually. "But I'm not a forgiving person, by nature."
"Does that mean you're not going to be volunteering at the hospital anymore?" Dennis asked.
"No, I probably still will be. I'll just, you know, be doing other things too. Why? You have someone there?"
Dennis looked away. "No, it's—" He sighed. "I know you don't take requests."
"His dad," I said for him. "Leukemia."
Amy nodded. "All right. I'll see what I can do. Which hospital?"
Dennis was blinking at her. "Uh. Brockton General."
She nodded. "I'll keep you posted."
"Amy," Dean said slowly, "you set that rule for a reason. Are you—"
"Rules," Amy interrupted, "are ways to hide from choices you don't want to make. A way to keep doors closed that shouldn't be opened. And that's good, if you have options you're afraid to take."
An image flashed in my mind at her words. A Ring of Power, quite unlike any of the others. I forced the thought away. That's my rule.
"I," Amy said with a tight little smile, "am not afraid anymore. There's nothing left to fear."
-x-x-x-
Please consider donating to my Patreon. Many thanks to those who have already donated.
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Lithos Maitreya
Character Witness
- Location
- United States
This week is a three-chapter week. Blame @BeaconHill and NaNoWriMo. Blaze 7.3 will arrive on Wednesday, and 7.4 will arrive on Friday.
Ellf
Apprentice Wizard
- Location
- Virginia
Yes. Annatar, forging the One would be a step. However, it is yours. Unlike the rest of the Rings, the One is yours, and yours alone. You will forge it one day, Eru knows, but it will be your last step before stepping into Illuvitar's Light or falling to Melkor's Shadow.
True. But a damned scary thing to hear from Amy.
edit: also a rather sad thing to hear.
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"Have you looked at my helmet, recently?"
"What? No. A bit?"
"It's got a skull on it! Have you noticed that my helmet actually has a picture of a skull on it?"
"Well, so...?"
"Am I a baddie?"
"I can come up with a word from a language nobody else even knows!"
And here we see Amy declare that she is a pretty cool guy, and doesn't afraid of anything.
Oh, hey! This is on SV, too. Of course it is. Why would I think otherwise? Of course, you know what THAT means, right? That's right, DOUBLE DIPPING ON C&C/IMGINARY INTERNET POINTS! sharing with people not on SB. (Also, I need to go through and like bomb this.)
(People always remember that one, but not his followup: "Hey, what's that in your hand?")
*glances right*
*leans in close*
Chaaaaaaaart.
So... we taking bets on how long until someone asks him about that scar on his stomach?
"What?"
"NOTHING."
Also:
Look at how quickly she tries to play nice with him for Taylor! That's certainly not going to make Miss Militia worry about that whole "Master thing" more! Not at all!
Oh, stop looking at me like that, Missy. Get Panacea on your side and she'll grow you your OWN Gallant!
Also, I want you all to know that it was physically PAINFUL for me not to make any perverse jokes about OTHER possible rings. It hurt me, deep in the perversity gland.
Oh, god! It's a plot by Jack Slash! Look out, Taylor, that's EVIL BACON!
In situations like this, I always try to remember a famous quote by John Lennon: "It's not paranoia if they ARE out to get you."
(People always remember that one, but not his followup: "Hey, what's that in your hand?")
You know, Taylor, you CAN have that power back. And for the low, low price of forging just ONE Ring.... alsopossiblyyourimmortalsoul.
"...and I really needed to explain to him that his ring was meant SOLELY for his finger and he did NOT look good with an earring and oh god was this a midlife crisis?"
*choke* Oh god. It's going to be one of THOSE chapters. I... I gotta get the scotch.
...I'LL JUST GET MORE SCOTCH ON ORDER, SHALL I?
WHULP. It was nice having a liver while it lasted!
*CHOKE* Someone get me a trepanation kit and a funnel! Just drinking this scotch isn't working fast enough any more!
*sob*
KEEPING THOSE HOPES ALIVE, SOPHIA!
*glances left*
*glances right*
*leans in close*
Chaaaaaaaart.
Yessssss. That's what she has. Problems with him. That's one way to put it.
So... we taking bets on how long until someone asks him about that scar on his stomach?
*perks up* I'm choosing to count that!
"NOTHING. ...despite all my hints. The jerk."
"What?"
"NOTHING."
Let's see... oh, we can't make THAT joke... and THAT one's right out, too... hoo boy, is THAT one gone.... looks like I'm back to drinking! Heavily!
What do you mean "wasn't"? Is... is she now? What do you know, Dennis?! Has Lithos let something slip to you?! TELL ME, DAMN YOUR EYES!
...good lord, has it only been that long? Man, Taylor works FAST. I'm sure Sophia would agree with me. ...or is at least hopeful!
Not yet! But I've got my fingers crossed for "Aecanap," the mysterious super villain who is the bane of hospitals and pharmaceutical companies due to her persistent curing of "incurable" diseases!
...which finger? Normally, I would ask, but... he's been around Regent more than fifteen seconds and I'm pretty sure that counts as a memetic hazard?
"I'm sorry about the whole... you know... 'arrow thing'."
Also:
Look at how quickly she tries to play nice with him for Taylor! That's certainly not going to make Miss Militia worry about that whole "Master thing" more! Not at all!
No, if this WAS show and tell, Sophia would have already dragged Taylor off and-*burbles into scotch glass*
We'll just file that on The Chart under "two people bonding under a mutual loss," then?
Oh, stop looking at me like that, Missy. Get Panacea on your side and she'll grow you your OWN Gallant!
...no, it's not. It's from Zork. You nerd. You unbelievable nerd. ...hold on a second. ...what? ...it is? ...well, too bad! I've already decided that Brian liked old text based video games as a kid AND THAT'S FINAL.
Yeah, right around the point that someone gets a microphone into Carol's face, asks about you, and is met with fifteen solid minutes of unending profanity.
"No, Miss Dallon, you can't use 'Pestilence' as your new cape name. Or 'Plague,' 'Contagion,' 'Lady Infectora,' or 'The Almighty Death Touch of Doom Bay.' ...and pouting won't help, so stop that!"
Yeah... canon Panacea is kind of... what's the word I'm looking for here... uh... oh, right! a HUGE ANGSTY BITCH.
*slowly raises hand* Um. Is... is anyone ELSE a little worried about this line here? A-anyone? Bueller?
And that's how this turned into a 'With This Ring' crossover....
Also, I want you all to know that it was physically PAINFUL for me not to make any perverse jokes about OTHER possible rings. It hurt me, deep in the perversity gland.
And THAT'S when Mr. Murphy started to laugh and laugh and laugh....
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- Location
- the Literature Club
To paraphrase Shadow from American Gods, Amy isn't afraid of what tomorrow might bring, because yesterday had brought it.
There's nothing to fear yet, Amy. But you'll learn better once Taylor dons her own ring.
- Location
- UK
Nope, no mastering here, or anywhere, what even is a master? *whistles*........*whistles louder!*......*whistling intensifies!*
- Location
- {Redacted}
- Pronouns
- She/They
I just want to point out something that I particularly liked: despite all her problems with him, the moment Taylor asked Sophia to work with Grue, she agreed without hesitation.
And not just because Taylor wanted her to, but because she realized that her grudge was petty. I like that it's not just fanatical devotion at work, but also her growth as a person having an impact.
Meanwhile, Piggot is like, "Hooray, becoming better people. Whatever. They still punch bad guys in the face, right? Cool, let's give her a villain and see what happens."
Because it's not like people ever make nice with someone they hate just because a friend asked them to, right?
- Location
- UK
Fair point, But this is Sophia. Until Taylor came along did Sophia even know how to make nice?
Also, most people might "hate" someone, but I've personally never shot one with a barbed crossbow bolt due to that hate.
I suspect there's something of a gap between those points most people wont ever cross.
Blaze 7.3
Lithos Maitreya
Character Witness
- Location
- United States
Many thanks to @Assembler, @themanwhowas, @fabledFreeboota, @Skyrunner, @BeaconHill, and ShadowStepper1300 for betareading.
Many thanks to @MugaSofer for fact checking.
"So, let me get this straight."
I nodded absently as I carefully struck at the blazing block of metal on the anvil.
"You found Aeglos after the fight with Leviathan," Chris prompted.
"Mm hmm."
"You were pleasantly surprised that it was undamaged."
"Yep." I lifted the bar and looked down its length. The blade was still true.
"So you decided it needed a new name."
"New identity, more like."
"…I'm missing something."
I went back to my hammering. "Aeglos means 'icicle,'" I explained. "In Sindarin. A mere icicle couldn't hold back Leviathan, like Aeglos did. It needed a new identity to reflect its achievement."
"I don't think that's how it works."
I shrugged. The blade was forged to length and shape, now, so I began working on forming the edge bevel.
"Anyway. New identity, right." Chris shook his head. "So… you decided that meant you had to take it apart and build it all over again?"
"It needed to be reforged."
"But why?"
"The old spear was Aeglos. The new one will be Iphannis." I glanced at him. "How's that haft coming?"
"Nearly done," he said. He glanced over his workspace, covered with a lattice of wires and welding equipment. "How about the point?"
I raised the curved blade and looked down the length again. The bevels were satisfactory for pre-grinding, and the line was still straight. "Needs quenching, grinding, and heat-treating. Should be ready in a couple hours."
"You think you'll have it done before your patrol tonight?"
I nodded as I lowered the blade into the water bath. "I should, yes. Thanks for all your help."
"Happy to be of service… even if this makes no sense."
I shook my head with a smile. "The results will speak for themselves."
A gibbous moon shone pale over the evening streets. The last vestiges of sunlight still painted the western sky in golds and oranges. The night was warm and humid; summer was coming. It draped over the city like a woolen blanket, dampening everything and leaving me a little uncomfortable in my armor and linings.
The city was alive with the sound of labor, as buildings were repaired and infrastructure was reinforced. Jackhammers drummed a clanging beat upon asphalt, concrete, and stone. Rich men shouted at foremen, foremen shouted at workmen, and workmen, lacking an outlet, shouted at one another.
None of this activity spilled into this part of the city, though, south of downtown. The streets we walked were deserted—eerily so.
Each of us had patrolled often, in the days since Leviathan's attack. As a rule, our daylight patrols were done in pairs, and our evening and night patrols were done as groups of three. One Ward was always left on the console.
Today, Sophia, Browbeat, and I were one group, while Aegis, Vista, and Gallant were another. Clockblocker was on console. The others went north, pushing into Lung's territory and trying to restore some semblance of order. Meanwhile, we went south into E88 turf.
Aegis didn't expect us to encounter any parahuman resistance, but we were to stop any crime we saw and remain on the watch for looting.
We had expected to easily find trouble. That expectation was being sorely tested now.
"I don't want to sound like an action movie," Sophia muttered, " but it's too quiet."
I nodded slowly.
"It's Empire," said Browbeat. "I haven't seen a single skinhead. They're usually pretty careful to be watching every street around here. Part of that's Leviathan—they're a lot busier, now—but this is still unusual."
"Any guesses what they're up to?" Sophia asked.
"No idea."
"Shadow Stalker, get on the rooftops," I ordered. "Scout. We need to figure out what's going on."
"On it." Sophia disappeared in a smoky burst of darkness.
I glanced at Browbeat. "I'll take point. Can you call this in?"
He nodded wordlessly, and fell into step behind me. As we continued down the street, his low voice echoed through the empty streets.
"This is Browbeat. We think the Empire's up to something."
It was not the first time, and wouldn't be the last, but I missed Nenya. With the Ring of Adamant, I'd have been able to pick out the Empire's activity in minutes. I'd have led my teammates right to them. But with Vilya on my finger, I felt half-blind.
"…No presence on the streets. They usually…"
That was probably because I wasn't using Vilya properly, though.
I stopped and closed my eyes. Browbeat tripped over his words momentarily as he stopped, too, before continuing to talk quietly into the radio.
I reached my awareness into Vilya. I had never worn the Ring of Air as much as Narya or Nenya. Its powers were more esoteric, and it never seemed to be the right Ring for the moment.
But it was the Dominant Ring for a reason. It might seldom be the perfect Ring, but it was almost never the wrong Ring.
I had not often tested its precognitive powers. I knew it could give me little more than a vague direction, or a general sense of the gravity of something to come.
I reached out and allowed myself to simply feel the shape of the future. I asked no specific question, not yet. I just ran my mental fingers over the body of Tomorrow.
Something bad is coming. I knew that already, though. Vilya had been paired with foreboding almost since the moment I put it on for the first time after Leviathan. Something was coming, and I had no way to know how soon or from where.
I knew it was drawing closer, though.
I shook this off. Worrying about the general cloud I felt hanging over the future would do me no good now. I tried to focus—to feel the future as it related to the Empire.
Anyone over the age of three understands causation. The future flows from the past in predictable and comprehensible ways, even though the sum of all these causal relations produces a universe far too complex for anyone but a precog to model. Vilya understood this as well, and so I was unsurprised when, rather than giving me some mysterious insight into the future, my attention was instead drawn to a memory.
We're going to have to recruit, Rune had said.
"They're trying to fill out their ranks," I said, opening my eyes. "They lost too many capes to Leviathan. They need to recoup those losses, and that's what they're doing now."
"Wouldn't there be more people out if it was a recruitment drive?" Browbeat asked.
"They finished the drive," I said. "This is the informational meeting." I pulled out my radio and tapped into Sophia's frequency. "Shadow Stalker, we're looking for a big meeting. See anything?"
"I mean, we knew they were probably going to be grouped up, since they weren't on the streets," she said. "No, I don't see anything. You figure something out?"
"It's a meeting to get new capes and recruits into the fold," I said. "I'm pretty sure about this."
"I live around here," said Browbeat slowly. "They might be meeting at the theater."
"Theater?" I turned to him. "What theater?"
"Anders Concert Hall," Browbeat explained. "Pretty big auditorium. I know E88 has done things there before."
I reached out with Vilya, trying to get a feel for what the future of Anders Concert Hall felt like.
It felt like blades.
"It's there," I said. "Can you guide us?"
He nodded, jogging past me. "Follow me."
"Shadow Stalker," I said into the radio. "We know where they are. Anders Concert Hall. Keep to the rooftops and look for any patrols while I call it in."
"Got it."
I swapped frequencies. "Console, this is Annatar. My precognition suggests that E88 is meeting at Anders Concert Hall. We're moving in."
"Console here." Clockblocker didn't sound happy. "Annatar, the three of you are not to engage all of E88 on your own."
"We'll stick to recon unless we get backup," I promised. "Can we get backup, by the way?"
"I have Aegis' squad on standby," he said, "and Director Piggot is—" he stopped, then started again. "I've just heard back from her. She wants confirmation before ordering the Protectorate to move, but if you can get confirmation, she'll send you Protectorate and PRT support."
"Thank you," I said. "We'll have that conversation in a couple minutes." I lowered the radio. "How much farther, Browbeat?"
"Not far," he said. "We should be careful. They'll have sentries."
I nodded. "Stop," I ordered. "In that alleyway."
We ducked into the small alcove, and I spoke into my radio again, on Sophia's channel. "Shadow Stalker, we need their sentries found and disabled."
"Already on it," she said, her whisper barely hissing through the speaker. "There's a guy on the roof of this building. I'm going to take him out, then see what I can get from his position."
"Careful," I warned. "They might have overlapping positions."
"They do. Empire always does. I know what I'm doing, Annatar, trust me."
"I do. Good luck."
I waited with bated breath, the radio silent in my hand. The silence stretched. Ten seconds… thirty… a minute.
Just as I was starting to panic, as I began thinking of contacting Clockblocker and reporting Sophia's disappearance, Sophia's voice returned. "Yeah," she said, "definitely an interlocking patrol. I'm still hidden, and one guy's down. They haven't realized."
"How?" I asked.
"He was leaning against a wall," she said. "He still is. He's just unconscious now. I might be able to pick out a couple more, but it's going to get harder. At some point we'll have to move, and do something."
I closed my eyes, thinking.
"Shadow Stalker could infiltrate, keep to the shadows," Browbeat suggested. "We could use her radio to hear what's happening while the PRT approach?"
"I don't like sending her in alone," I said. "What if something goes wrong?"
"She can take care of herself," he said. "She's quick, and has a good power for escaping. She'll be fine. We need to get in there."
I sighed and turned my frequency back to console. "This is Annatar. We can confirm the presence of E88 around the concert hall. Heavy Empire presence in the area—organized patrols. Requesting permission to send Shadow Stalker to infiltrate the meeting?"
"This is Console, please stand by," said Clockblocker shortly.
I worried my lower lip as I waited. At length, Clockblocker spoke again.
"Permission granted," he said. "Tell her to be careful. Aegis' squad is en route to your position, as are a Protectorate detachment under Miss Militia, and a PRT squadron."
"They're not using the PRT vans, are they?"
"No. Unmarked civilian vehicles. Stealth op."
"Good. Shadow Stalker will patch us the meeting audio and video through her helmet camera. Maintain radio contact."
"You too."
I swapped channels. "Shadow Stalker," I said. "You're going to infiltrate the meeting on your own. Can you do that?"
"Of course."
"Use your radio to patch us the audio, and your helmet cam to give us video."
"Will do. We getting reinforcements?"
"Yes. Be careful, though; they'll be a while."
"Hey." There was a smile in her voice. "Careful's my middle name. Don't worry about me."
This whole scenario was a little uncomfortably familiar. "Can't help it."
"I'm flattered. Wish me luck!"
"Good luck," I said, but by the indicator light on my handheld, her radio had disconnected from the network—she'd phased into shadow.
At length, she reconnected. But it wasn't her voice I heard across the radio.
"…Leviathan was just the last, and most obvious straw." I recognized the voice. Kaiser was an accomplished speaker, and a man of no small power. There was no mistaking that clearly affected aristocratic lilt, that deliberately placed hint of an upper-class British accent.
There were two kinds of demagogues—those who bolstered men's virtues, and the far more common ones who preyed on their sins. Kaiser's meal of choice was pride.
"This city—this country—has been sliding into depravity for years," he continued. "But you all know that. None of you would be here if you didn't. And you all know the source!"
Cheering. A wave of disgust rose in the pit of my stomach, but I forced it down as Kaiser continued.
"This country has failed to enforce its own laws!" he declared. "It has allowed soft, weak-minded pity to outweigh pragmatism! It has spent enormous amounts of money, effort, and time to make sure the stupid, the inferior, the useless are cared for, while those who are useful are drained and tossed aside! Leviathan's passage has left this city in need of aid, and where is that aid being sent? To the 'less-privileged!' The lazy! Those people who contribute nothing, and yet are somehow entitled to our tax money, while we hard-working Americans continue to pay their way! This country's social institutions have become a vampire, sucking away at the lifeblood, the moral fiber, that made America great from the beginning!"
The cheering was so loud, now, that I had to turn the radio down another few notches in the interest of caution.
"Man knows how to work a crowd," murmured Browbeat. There was something odd in his voice. Disgust, yes, as I might have expected—but also something like shame.
I didn't answer. Kaiser was speaking again. "That is why we are here! We are providing aid to those who need it—to those who deserve it! We are not so concerned with some arbitrary agenda that we will allow our own to starve! This is why Empire 88 is standing, and why we will not allow the corrupt government to beat us down! And yet they call us Nazis. Well, Hitler revitalized his country in a matter of years from a depression like few the world has ever seen, even as this country floundered in liberal policies which did nothing to alleviate its own crisis! We are its best chance at a return to America's former glory! We—"
There was a bellow, and then the radio went silent. I froze for the barest instant, and then, heart hammering, acted.
"Contact Console," I ordered Browbeat. "I'll keep listening in case she just phased. Get ready to move."
He nodded, already working on his radio. "Console," he said quickly. "We lost contact with Shadow Stalker. She—"
"I'm all right," Sophia said, her voice cutting in over the console radio channel. "I'm fine. They're moving, though. There's a lot of capes here."
"Fall back," I told her. "Get back to us."
"Already on it," she said, and her radio disconnected again.
"Support is on the way," said Clockblocker. "Be careful. Piggot has given the call for broken stealth—the PRT is coming in hot."
"Understood," I said. "Where should we rendezvous?"
"Marston and Lockwood," Clockblocker said. "You know where that is?"
"I do," said Browbeat.
"Lead the way, then," I said. "Carefully."
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Many thanks to @MugaSofer for fact checking.
-x-x-x-
"So, let me get this straight."
I nodded absently as I carefully struck at the blazing block of metal on the anvil.
"You found Aeglos after the fight with Leviathan," Chris prompted.
"Mm hmm."
"You were pleasantly surprised that it was undamaged."
"Yep." I lifted the bar and looked down its length. The blade was still true.
"So you decided it needed a new name."
"New identity, more like."
"…I'm missing something."
I went back to my hammering. "Aeglos means 'icicle,'" I explained. "In Sindarin. A mere icicle couldn't hold back Leviathan, like Aeglos did. It needed a new identity to reflect its achievement."
"I don't think that's how it works."
I shrugged. The blade was forged to length and shape, now, so I began working on forming the edge bevel.
"Anyway. New identity, right." Chris shook his head. "So… you decided that meant you had to take it apart and build it all over again?"
"It needed to be reforged."
"But why?"
"The old spear was Aeglos. The new one will be Iphannis." I glanced at him. "How's that haft coming?"
"Nearly done," he said. He glanced over his workspace, covered with a lattice of wires and welding equipment. "How about the point?"
I raised the curved blade and looked down the length again. The bevels were satisfactory for pre-grinding, and the line was still straight. "Needs quenching, grinding, and heat-treating. Should be ready in a couple hours."
"You think you'll have it done before your patrol tonight?"
I nodded as I lowered the blade into the water bath. "I should, yes. Thanks for all your help."
"Happy to be of service… even if this makes no sense."
I shook my head with a smile. "The results will speak for themselves."
-x-x-x-
A gibbous moon shone pale over the evening streets. The last vestiges of sunlight still painted the western sky in golds and oranges. The night was warm and humid; summer was coming. It draped over the city like a woolen blanket, dampening everything and leaving me a little uncomfortable in my armor and linings.
The city was alive with the sound of labor, as buildings were repaired and infrastructure was reinforced. Jackhammers drummed a clanging beat upon asphalt, concrete, and stone. Rich men shouted at foremen, foremen shouted at workmen, and workmen, lacking an outlet, shouted at one another.
None of this activity spilled into this part of the city, though, south of downtown. The streets we walked were deserted—eerily so.
Each of us had patrolled often, in the days since Leviathan's attack. As a rule, our daylight patrols were done in pairs, and our evening and night patrols were done as groups of three. One Ward was always left on the console.
Today, Sophia, Browbeat, and I were one group, while Aegis, Vista, and Gallant were another. Clockblocker was on console. The others went north, pushing into Lung's territory and trying to restore some semblance of order. Meanwhile, we went south into E88 turf.
Aegis didn't expect us to encounter any parahuman resistance, but we were to stop any crime we saw and remain on the watch for looting.
We had expected to easily find trouble. That expectation was being sorely tested now.
"I don't want to sound like an action movie," Sophia muttered, " but it's too quiet."
I nodded slowly.
"It's Empire," said Browbeat. "I haven't seen a single skinhead. They're usually pretty careful to be watching every street around here. Part of that's Leviathan—they're a lot busier, now—but this is still unusual."
"Any guesses what they're up to?" Sophia asked.
"No idea."
"Shadow Stalker, get on the rooftops," I ordered. "Scout. We need to figure out what's going on."
"On it." Sophia disappeared in a smoky burst of darkness.
I glanced at Browbeat. "I'll take point. Can you call this in?"
He nodded wordlessly, and fell into step behind me. As we continued down the street, his low voice echoed through the empty streets.
"This is Browbeat. We think the Empire's up to something."
It was not the first time, and wouldn't be the last, but I missed Nenya. With the Ring of Adamant, I'd have been able to pick out the Empire's activity in minutes. I'd have led my teammates right to them. But with Vilya on my finger, I felt half-blind.
"…No presence on the streets. They usually…"
That was probably because I wasn't using Vilya properly, though.
I stopped and closed my eyes. Browbeat tripped over his words momentarily as he stopped, too, before continuing to talk quietly into the radio.
I reached my awareness into Vilya. I had never worn the Ring of Air as much as Narya or Nenya. Its powers were more esoteric, and it never seemed to be the right Ring for the moment.
But it was the Dominant Ring for a reason. It might seldom be the perfect Ring, but it was almost never the wrong Ring.
I had not often tested its precognitive powers. I knew it could give me little more than a vague direction, or a general sense of the gravity of something to come.
I reached out and allowed myself to simply feel the shape of the future. I asked no specific question, not yet. I just ran my mental fingers over the body of Tomorrow.
Something bad is coming. I knew that already, though. Vilya had been paired with foreboding almost since the moment I put it on for the first time after Leviathan. Something was coming, and I had no way to know how soon or from where.
I knew it was drawing closer, though.
I shook this off. Worrying about the general cloud I felt hanging over the future would do me no good now. I tried to focus—to feel the future as it related to the Empire.
Anyone over the age of three understands causation. The future flows from the past in predictable and comprehensible ways, even though the sum of all these causal relations produces a universe far too complex for anyone but a precog to model. Vilya understood this as well, and so I was unsurprised when, rather than giving me some mysterious insight into the future, my attention was instead drawn to a memory.
We're going to have to recruit, Rune had said.
"They're trying to fill out their ranks," I said, opening my eyes. "They lost too many capes to Leviathan. They need to recoup those losses, and that's what they're doing now."
"Wouldn't there be more people out if it was a recruitment drive?" Browbeat asked.
"They finished the drive," I said. "This is the informational meeting." I pulled out my radio and tapped into Sophia's frequency. "Shadow Stalker, we're looking for a big meeting. See anything?"
"I mean, we knew they were probably going to be grouped up, since they weren't on the streets," she said. "No, I don't see anything. You figure something out?"
"It's a meeting to get new capes and recruits into the fold," I said. "I'm pretty sure about this."
"I live around here," said Browbeat slowly. "They might be meeting at the theater."
"Theater?" I turned to him. "What theater?"
"Anders Concert Hall," Browbeat explained. "Pretty big auditorium. I know E88 has done things there before."
I reached out with Vilya, trying to get a feel for what the future of Anders Concert Hall felt like.
It felt like blades.
"It's there," I said. "Can you guide us?"
He nodded, jogging past me. "Follow me."
"Shadow Stalker," I said into the radio. "We know where they are. Anders Concert Hall. Keep to the rooftops and look for any patrols while I call it in."
"Got it."
I swapped frequencies. "Console, this is Annatar. My precognition suggests that E88 is meeting at Anders Concert Hall. We're moving in."
"Console here." Clockblocker didn't sound happy. "Annatar, the three of you are not to engage all of E88 on your own."
"We'll stick to recon unless we get backup," I promised. "Can we get backup, by the way?"
"I have Aegis' squad on standby," he said, "and Director Piggot is—" he stopped, then started again. "I've just heard back from her. She wants confirmation before ordering the Protectorate to move, but if you can get confirmation, she'll send you Protectorate and PRT support."
"Thank you," I said. "We'll have that conversation in a couple minutes." I lowered the radio. "How much farther, Browbeat?"
"Not far," he said. "We should be careful. They'll have sentries."
I nodded. "Stop," I ordered. "In that alleyway."
We ducked into the small alcove, and I spoke into my radio again, on Sophia's channel. "Shadow Stalker, we need their sentries found and disabled."
"Already on it," she said, her whisper barely hissing through the speaker. "There's a guy on the roof of this building. I'm going to take him out, then see what I can get from his position."
"Careful," I warned. "They might have overlapping positions."
"They do. Empire always does. I know what I'm doing, Annatar, trust me."
"I do. Good luck."
I waited with bated breath, the radio silent in my hand. The silence stretched. Ten seconds… thirty… a minute.
Just as I was starting to panic, as I began thinking of contacting Clockblocker and reporting Sophia's disappearance, Sophia's voice returned. "Yeah," she said, "definitely an interlocking patrol. I'm still hidden, and one guy's down. They haven't realized."
"How?" I asked.
"He was leaning against a wall," she said. "He still is. He's just unconscious now. I might be able to pick out a couple more, but it's going to get harder. At some point we'll have to move, and do something."
I closed my eyes, thinking.
"Shadow Stalker could infiltrate, keep to the shadows," Browbeat suggested. "We could use her radio to hear what's happening while the PRT approach?"
"I don't like sending her in alone," I said. "What if something goes wrong?"
"She can take care of herself," he said. "She's quick, and has a good power for escaping. She'll be fine. We need to get in there."
I sighed and turned my frequency back to console. "This is Annatar. We can confirm the presence of E88 around the concert hall. Heavy Empire presence in the area—organized patrols. Requesting permission to send Shadow Stalker to infiltrate the meeting?"
"This is Console, please stand by," said Clockblocker shortly.
I worried my lower lip as I waited. At length, Clockblocker spoke again.
"Permission granted," he said. "Tell her to be careful. Aegis' squad is en route to your position, as are a Protectorate detachment under Miss Militia, and a PRT squadron."
"They're not using the PRT vans, are they?"
"No. Unmarked civilian vehicles. Stealth op."
"Good. Shadow Stalker will patch us the meeting audio and video through her helmet camera. Maintain radio contact."
"You too."
I swapped channels. "Shadow Stalker," I said. "You're going to infiltrate the meeting on your own. Can you do that?"
"Of course."
"Use your radio to patch us the audio, and your helmet cam to give us video."
"Will do. We getting reinforcements?"
"Yes. Be careful, though; they'll be a while."
"Hey." There was a smile in her voice. "Careful's my middle name. Don't worry about me."
This whole scenario was a little uncomfortably familiar. "Can't help it."
"I'm flattered. Wish me luck!"
"Good luck," I said, but by the indicator light on my handheld, her radio had disconnected from the network—she'd phased into shadow.
At length, she reconnected. But it wasn't her voice I heard across the radio.
"…Leviathan was just the last, and most obvious straw." I recognized the voice. Kaiser was an accomplished speaker, and a man of no small power. There was no mistaking that clearly affected aristocratic lilt, that deliberately placed hint of an upper-class British accent.
There were two kinds of demagogues—those who bolstered men's virtues, and the far more common ones who preyed on their sins. Kaiser's meal of choice was pride.
"This city—this country—has been sliding into depravity for years," he continued. "But you all know that. None of you would be here if you didn't. And you all know the source!"
Cheering. A wave of disgust rose in the pit of my stomach, but I forced it down as Kaiser continued.
"This country has failed to enforce its own laws!" he declared. "It has allowed soft, weak-minded pity to outweigh pragmatism! It has spent enormous amounts of money, effort, and time to make sure the stupid, the inferior, the useless are cared for, while those who are useful are drained and tossed aside! Leviathan's passage has left this city in need of aid, and where is that aid being sent? To the 'less-privileged!' The lazy! Those people who contribute nothing, and yet are somehow entitled to our tax money, while we hard-working Americans continue to pay their way! This country's social institutions have become a vampire, sucking away at the lifeblood, the moral fiber, that made America great from the beginning!"
The cheering was so loud, now, that I had to turn the radio down another few notches in the interest of caution.
"Man knows how to work a crowd," murmured Browbeat. There was something odd in his voice. Disgust, yes, as I might have expected—but also something like shame.
I didn't answer. Kaiser was speaking again. "That is why we are here! We are providing aid to those who need it—to those who deserve it! We are not so concerned with some arbitrary agenda that we will allow our own to starve! This is why Empire 88 is standing, and why we will not allow the corrupt government to beat us down! And yet they call us Nazis. Well, Hitler revitalized his country in a matter of years from a depression like few the world has ever seen, even as this country floundered in liberal policies which did nothing to alleviate its own crisis! We are its best chance at a return to America's former glory! We—"
There was a bellow, and then the radio went silent. I froze for the barest instant, and then, heart hammering, acted.
"Contact Console," I ordered Browbeat. "I'll keep listening in case she just phased. Get ready to move."
He nodded, already working on his radio. "Console," he said quickly. "We lost contact with Shadow Stalker. She—"
"I'm all right," Sophia said, her voice cutting in over the console radio channel. "I'm fine. They're moving, though. There's a lot of capes here."
"Fall back," I told her. "Get back to us."
"Already on it," she said, and her radio disconnected again.
"Support is on the way," said Clockblocker. "Be careful. Piggot has given the call for broken stealth—the PRT is coming in hot."
"Understood," I said. "Where should we rendezvous?"
"Marston and Lockwood," Clockblocker said. "You know where that is?"
"I do," said Browbeat.
"Lead the way, then," I said. "Carefully."
-x-x-x-
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Last edited:
- Location
- Earth Prime
Gotta love the "they're giving aid to the lazy! We're giving aid to YOU" dichotomy in Kaiser's speech. It's not about right or wrong, just about making sure his audience thinks they're getting a bigger piece of the pie, while giving them a fig leaf of invective to pretend it's more than naked greed. I'm guessing this is breaking out into a raiding party to take control of relief supplies.
Lithos Maitreya
Character Witness
- Location
- United States
That speech was a lot of fun to write. I don't know that I can say I've ever been good at rhetoric, but I've always been interested in it.