Chosen One Protective Services

An hour later, with some oatmeal and fresh water in his belly, and a set of white robes and sandals keeping the worst of the coldness of the stone from chilling him, Rusty followed Alice up several flights of stairs. It took a little while, since his legs were still feeling wobbly, but she waited patiently for him at each landing, and didn't seem to mind.

Finally, they reached a floor where the wind whistled past the rattling and barred windows with a wailing scream, rising and falling but never unending. Flashes of lightning flickered past, and Rusty could almost taste the ozone in the air. Occasionally thunder would break, but it rumbled muffled and distorted. His head pounded, as he looked around.

“We're almost there,” Alice said, in that soft southern accent. “Come on, then. Just a little farther.”

Rusty nodded at her, grateful for a friendly face. And a patient one. His mother or any of his siblings would have left him in the dirt right now, Cyrus excepted. The Colfax household had never been big on waiting for anyone, and it was usually first come, first serve.

But nonetheless, as he went, he felt his sense of wonder stir anew. There was only one hallway here, and the walls widened to either side, until he was walking through a trophy room, of sorts. The skeletons of strange creatures stood tall, some hunched over so they wouldn't hit the ceiling, others on plaques against the wall. There were quite a few Grach, Rusty noted. They looked smaller now that they were dead, but their shells and skulls still gave him a ripple of fear along his spine.

And along with the bones, great crystals of all hues sat under glass, next to worked artifacts like weapons, crowns, and bits of armor. Some of it looked to be sized to fit humans. Others would have given even the Grach trouble. There was one helmet that had holes cut to let two things come out of the wearer's forehead, and Rusty wondered if that had been made for someone like the satyr he'd saved.

Where did she go? He wondered. How is she now? He hoped she was okay. Yeah, she hadn't stuck around afterward to save him from the tree strider young, but the elves had matters well in hand, there.

“We're here,” Alice said, and Rusty looked up to see a golden door ahead. It was engraved with words he couldn't read, and what appeared to be a stylized tree covering the whole of it, crossed by twin lightning bolts. There was a weight to it, and the ozone taste in the air seemed heavy, almost like there was bleach in his mouth. He licked his lips, and Alice smiled next to him. “Yeah. It's like that. Just wait 'till you get a look at it later.”

“What?” That didn't make much sense. Rusty was looking at it now. But Alice just smiled, went up, and knocked on the door.

It opened as soon as she touched it, green light streaming out and blinding him for a few seconds, the metal of it creaking and ringing against the stone.

But once his eyes cleared, he felt his heart leap.

This was precisely what he had been hoping to see, and though some of the details didn't match his imagination, Rusty knew a classroom when he saw one.

It couldn't be anything else. There were rows of desks, and an aisle in between, leading up to a dais and a lectern. High windows, good clear glass ones, let in green light from both sides. True, the desks weren't of a familiar make, but the layout was just about the same as he remembered from his last year in Epitome Elementary. This room HAD to be used for education.

It had been three years since Rusty had seen the inside of a school. He'd had to hang back and work the farm for Mom and Dad. It had been hard seeing most of the rest of his siblings go to school, leaving him alone at home with memories of the friends he'd left behind. All he had left were the hopes he'd had to grow up and be smart like Cy, and the knowledge that he'd have to put that aside and catch up later.

But now he was going to go to a special school, and he was going to learn MAGIC.

It had all been worth it.

“Oh. He lived. How nice.”

Rusty blinked at the sound of the accented voice, and looked toward the speaker. And the other children, that were arrayed loosely around him.

The one who'd spoken was a boy, maybe a few years older than him. Big, blonde, wearing white robes that had been tucked into sturdy green trousers. His hair was cut short, and he wasn't smiling. He had a thick face, and a nose that Rusty could tell had been broken before. His eyes were narrowed as he looked Rusty up and down.

“Be nice, Gunther,” Alice said, folding her arms. “He might be the one.”

“Let's hope one of us is,” said another boy, a little smaller than Rusty, but of uncertain age. He was Asian, but he spoke without any accent, and his black hair was spiky and wild. He wore an oversized polo shirt that had been patched with white cloth that seemed to match the robes, and a pair of slacks that were missing most of one leg. Battered tennis shoes completed his attire. He was smiling, though. “I'm Ken Li. Pleased to meet you. The big slab of meat over there's Gunther Becker.”

Rusty stuck out his hand. Ken shook it, Gunther didn't, but Rusty let that pass. “Howdy. I'm Rusty Colfax. Um... did Terathon recruit you all, or...”

The door chimed open again, and they all turned to look.

And to Rusty's surprise, he recognized the girl that entered.

“Rusty!” Janice Beel shrieked, running forward and hugging him, almost bowling him over the desk in front of him. He caught her awkwardly, shuffled a bit, then blushed and put her down. But she still kept on hugging him.

“Janice, wow, I didn't... you're here too?” Rusty babbled.

Janice Beel had been Rick Beel's younger sister. Back when he was still going to school, Rusty had been best friends with Rick, who lived over by the train tracks, not far from the phone company. Janice was his little sister, about a year younger, and she'd had a horrible lisp and braces. She still had braces, but they were smaller now. Back in the day she'd tried to follow them all over the place, no matter how much Rick threw rocks at her and told her to go away. Her red hair hung unruly, and got in his face as she hugged the stuffing out of him, and he coughed and spluttered until she finally let up and pushed him back.

“I'm here! I thought I was the only one here, but then I got my rune and got back and now there's a lot of us! And you're here too, this is wonderful!”

“Did Terathon tell you you were the chosen one?” Rusty asked.

Over Janice's shoulder, he saw Gunther grimace. The others shifted a little uneasily, too. Ken looked down. Alice bit her lip.

But Janice just beamed more brightly. “No, silly. Jadar did!”

“Jadar?”

“She's one of the wizards. And—”

“One of?” Rusty said, blinking. “Wait, she? There's girl wizards?”

“Yeah! You're looking at one!” Janice did a little pirouette, red hair bobbing every which way.

“How can—” Rusty bit his tongue. He'd almost asked how girls could be wizards, but thinking about it, it made sense the runes wouldn't care who took them. He was impressed that a girl was able to stick a rune in her skin, though. He didn't reckon any of his sisters were tough enough to do that. Janice had more guts than either he or Rick had given her credit for.

“Children,” an ancient voice rasped, and Rusty startled in surprise, whirled around to face the front of the classroom.

There was no other way in besides the doors, but there, standing behind the lectern, was an old, old man. He was bent and hunched with age, not so much leaning on a twisted, dark staff as appearing to grow out of it. His robes were deep red, studded with purple gemstones in descending spirals that worked their way around his body. His beard was almost down to the floor, and he wore no hat on his bald head.

He radiated authority. His eyes were filled with a palpable force that he swept across the children, holding them in place like a serpent terrifying mice.

And only when he looked away, did Rusty realize that the wizard had the darkest skin he'd ever seen.

It was one thing to meet Alice Jackson, and accept that well, okay, she was maybe a chosen one too, and she had a rune and magic, just like he did. He was in a strange place, and the rules were different than in Texas.

But the wizard up there on stage, that was a man who obviously had authority, was THE authority. Even Terathon hadn't had this level of presence.

And he was black.

Rusty wasn't sure if he should be okay with this or not. His upbringing had not prepared him for this situation. The last time this sort of thing had ever been in question was a month ago, when Dad was trying to watch a man called Martin Luther King talk on television, and Mom had called it nonsense talk and insisted he turn it off.

And in a handful of heartbeats, as the kids stared, mesmerized, Rusty decided that he should probably keep his mouth shut and think hard about this later. Wizards had different rules than Texas did right now, so he shouldn't worry about it at the minute.

Rusty would later remember this decision, and be very glad he made the choice to look at things that way.

But that would be later.

Right now, the kids stared back, uncertain of what, if anything, they were meant to do as the old man glowered at them.

Eventually, he nodded, seemingly satisfied. “One among you is the Chosen One,” he said, in a deep, breathy voice. “But we do not know which of you that is, yet. And so your first lesson shall... help us along this road of discovery.”

The doors sung open once more, and Rusty turned to see four figures, three men and one woman, walk forward into the green light of the high windows.

One was Terathon, clad in his plain brown robes, but wearing a dark green sash, every inch of it covered in unfamiliar characters written in gold trim. Another was a woman, short and pale-skinned, her hair done up in black braids chased with white streaks, her robes also black and tucked into sturdy, iron-shod boots that were literally rusting on her feet. A third figure was young, his beard a mere goatee. His robes were bright yellow, and he wore a pair of leather gloves that appeared to have a rolling flame moving around them, burning points that seemed to almost shift like bugs, like if fireflies were actually made of fire.

But it was the fourth figure that made Rusty gasp.

A clean-shaven man in dark blue robes that fluttered and moved on their own.

He was the very same man that Rusty had seen in that dead boy's memories.

The wizard at the lectern was speaking again, and if Rusty hadn't had perfect memory, he'd have missed it entirely. A few seconds late, he tore his eyes from the clean-shaven wizard, and looked back to the lectern, and its ancient occupant.

“We will be your teachers,” the old man rasped. “We will be your trainers. One among you shall be the savior of this world, and in time, we will know which of you is worthy to be the true chosen one.”

He paused, drawing in raspy breath, and to Rusty's utter surprise, Ken raised his hand. “Sir?”

Alice murmured to Janice, the two girls amazed, and Rusty saw Gunther's face show utter surprise, before the big blonde kid got it back into shape. Rusty couldn't blame him. Ken had some guts to pipe up, here.

“Sir, what will happen to those of us who aren't the chosen ones?” Ken asked.

The old man stared at him, as if he were looking at a talking fish, or some other unexpected and entirely alien thing. His eyes narrowed, as if he didn't like what he saw, and Rusty imagined that he could almost feel the old man's anger billowing out from him like a cloud, filling the room. “I did not give you leave to ask questions, boy,” the ancient one finally said. “Your impatience is a poor reflection upon your upbringing. But I will answer this, and only this, before we move on and stop wasting time. Those of you who are not the chosen one, shall be the chosen one's companions. You shall help them reach the dark lord, end him, and reclaim his power for the forces of the light. Do you understand me, or should I simplify it for you?”

“I, uh, I understand. Sir. S-sorry.” Ken put his hand down, and looked away.

“Now I shall continue.” The old man said, breathing heavily. “All of you have done the first task of the chosen. All of you have claimed your rune. I can feel your awakening from here, just as you can feel mine.”

Was that that feeling of looming presence, of intensity? Was the rune the reason for that? Rusty had just chalked it down to the old man being scary as hell, but learning that there was magic behind it, that somehow made it a little better.

“And now, as we call you,” the old man continued, “you shall show us your power. But first—” The old man straightened up, and held the staff up high, throwing his other hand out dramatically. “ROSH!”

His fingers flared with golden light.

The room shook.

The tower groaned, and the shaking got worse, and Rusty gripped the desk in front of him, panic filling his guts. But a quick glance back at the rest of the wizards showed them calm. Terathon caught his eye, and gave him a nod, and Rusty felt better....

And then the walls folded away. They separated, the beams of the ceiling collapsing in to either side, and the walls dropping in slow motion as the glass windows sunk one by one into holes in the floor where the walls had been. And the room was no more, only the desks and lectern and dais remaining on a great stone disk, above the clouds. It extended out a few hundred feet in each direction, with no railings to mark where the disk ended, and the long, long drop started. The wind hit them like a physical blow, staggering Rusty and the others as it howled, with the pure green sky shining down from above and a great, alien sun's blinding light making them blink with its intensity.