The Destiny Trilogy

Book One: The Legend of Chantri-Bova

Author's note: Thanks, Stellar Raven for the excellent beta. He made it all shiny for yall!

Chapter 2: The Choosing

The Near Future…

Utet edac jwo Ijbahdwogo e Oħocrovet sa rižsha…

"I call upon the essence of the Atmosphere…"

Tacegab jwo Oihj, Lohj, cagjw ics Haejw, naehivet uc bn cōs e waeg rabojaket sa ubdzagosha…

"From the East, West, North and South, I implore you to come unto me in my hour of need…"

Sa woigja bo!...

"Hear me!"

Her voice almost echoed in the quiet and darkness. The wind blew through her long, coiled hair, tears streamed down her face and her knees felt as solid as gelatin. Falling to them she begged, "Please."

Suddenly she was full of fear and loneliness. Wrapping her arms around herself she raised her face to the dark sky and wept to no one in particular, "I'm not ready to be alone…Not yet…"

"I'm weak," she admitted to herself as she began rocking back and forth. "Help me…"

Is this what the great Chantri-Bova has been reduced to? Crying for help?

Then she felt a hand on her back that she thought she might've imagined, and a voice she hadn't heard in centuries promise, "You are far from weak, my Lady. And you are never alone."

Back to the Show!

It all happened so fast.

It was after school, and Brad was in a rush to get to football practice. Coach VanGundy had said that if he was late for one more practice, he'd be benched for a week. He called it 'Making an example of the Captain'.

He'd planned to cut through the lobby and go through the parking lot to get to the football field. By then he'd only have about five minutes to get suited up. Sure. That'll work.

He pushed at the heavy front door, and when he managed to get it open, who should he see but Antoinette?

Suddenly he wasn't in such a rush…

Brad held the door open for her. "Hi, Nette," he greeted as she walked through the door.

"Thank you, Brad," she replied, smiling at him.

As cliché as it sounded, he hated to see her leave, but he loved watching her walk away. She did have such a nice walk...

Letting the door swing shut, he turned to continue towards the field…but paused when he spotted that pain in the ass, John, nodding towards Antoinette…and then saw his friend shove her from the top of the stairs!

Brad desperately tugged on the door, but it wouldn't give fast enough. She was already falling...

She was at the foot of the stairs by the time he got to her, her leg at an unnatural angle. A small crowd had formed.

Pushing his way through the mass of students, he saw that creep kneeling beside her. Rage boiled up inside him.

"Get away from her!" he barked, pulling him away from the fallen girl. "What's the matter with you? Are you trying to get her killed?"

"What? I-"

"I saw you tell your friend to push her!"

"I didn't!" John protested, but Brad wasn't hearing it. He took his place beside Antoinette's unmoving form.

"You'd better be gone in ten seconds!" Brad snapped, pulling out his cell phone.

Why was Brad even giving him a chance?

"I already called…" John began, but Brad cut him off, seething.

"You'd better leave, or so help me…"

And John did.

Run, you little punk-bitch.

Never had John ever felt so much like crap. Perhaps it was because no one had ever stood up for themselves so readily. At first, it could've just been interpreted as a girl pushing the limits of how far some punk was willing to go, but when she didn't back down, it became apparent she was willing to take it as far as it needed to go, high heels or no.

He respected that. This girl had officially earned his admiration.

But he had already messed up his chance at getting to know her, and it'd already been a week. A week of no contact whatsoever. Not even a sneer. Not even a bad word. Nothing.

She had successfully turned him to vapor.

Being thought of as the biggest ass on the planet didn't hurt as much as being thought of as nothing at all…

Still, he wouldn't force his presence on her. She'd acknowledge him when she wanted. That was her right.

And then seeing her everyday at lunch having a laugh with those friends she gained so quickly…that stung him. How did she do it? It was such a foreign concept for John that anyone would just…just like someone, without any need for putting on a show. Just being oneself.

Even if he figured out how that worked, there probably wasn't anyone on the planet interested in his self. His front was all he had.

But he had to admit that this bully thing was getting old. No one liked him. No one respected him. Hardly anyone probably even feared him. He was wasting his high school career on something that was losing its luster and was proving to be…well…dumb!

But what to do about it?

As usual there was no rush after school. Definitely no rush to go home. He would just stand in his usual spot in front of the school for the customary 45 minutes or so and people-watch.

And suddenly there she was: Antoinette, looking glamorous as usual.

For some reason, she'd looked over in his direction. Perhaps she felt his stare? John had read somewhere that people could actually feel them. Yeah, he read.

He'd given her a nod, the most neutral gesture he could muster, seeing as how they weren't friends and weren't even on speaking terms—How was he supposed to know that his stupid, overly-loyal "friend" would take that as some kind of signal?

John wasn't talking to him, or looking at him. He didn't even know the guy was there! Yet there it was. John's ass of a friend took it upon himself to rid him of the person outside of family to show him such indifference.

Before John could stop him, she was stumbling...and then falling...and then at the bottom of the stairs.

He'd taken the steps in leaps and bounds, and, without hesitation, whipped out his cell phone to dial 911. The last thing he wanted was for her to be in any real danger. If he had, he wouldn't have left her alone so peacefully for the last week. But when she awoke, would she remember that he tried to help her? Or would she blame him?

He had a feeling it would be the latter. It was always the latter...

He looked around. His idiot friend was nowhere in sight—but big bad Brad the jock was, and in moments he was pushing John away, replacing him at the girl's side.

He could see the fury in Brad's eyes as he threatened him. John wasn't willing to test him. You never knew what a person could be capable of when they cared that much for a person.

Of course, it would never occur to Brad that John was genuinely concerned.

Antoinette must have either been very special or very lucky to warrant such concern from the biggest chauvinist in school.

He'd leave. John knew when the make himself scarce...

Antoinette couldn't shake the jumbled feelings of smugness and loneliness that she had gotten from John when she passed him flat at lunch …or the feeling of foreboding when she finally got her tray and sat down.

The others were talking and making jokes as usual, but she was preoccupied.

She couldn't get over how miserable John looked when they made eye contact, and she was starting to feel bad for not trying a little harder to talk to him.

Was she that pigheaded, that she would let an opportunity to get things aired out pass? No, she decided, she wasn't. Yes, he'd been wrong, but maybe he had his reasons.

She made a mental note to take him aside and talk to him the next day.

"Right, Nette?" came Liz suddenly, breaking her thoughts.

"Huh?" said Antoinette, snapping back to the present.

"Just say 'yes', Nette," said Pete.

Without thinking, Antoinette answered 'yes' and the group enjoyed a laugh at her expense.

She would've asked what heinous thing she just agreed to, but she changed her mind and once again slipped into her own thoughts.

"What are you thinking about, sweetie?" came Liz, always the perceptive one.

"Nothin'," lied Antoinette, shaking her head. She won't dwell on those thoughts right now. They would bring down her whole day.

Then finally the end of the day came.

Antoinette was always shocked at how quickly the school emptied when the last bell rang. She was never in that much of a rush; the school building didn't repulse her that much. Besides, she'd needed to argue something with one of her teachers, and that always took a while.

But feeling victorious after her debate with the teacher, she was ready to leave. Heading to one of the front doors of the building, she had spotted Brad looking hard pressed for time. Holding the door for her, she'd smiled and thanked him.

Where had that chauvinistic grease ball that she met the first day of school disappeared off to? She almost dared to think that he was becoming something of a gentleman!

Shaking her head at the goofy smile Brad was giving her, Antoinette had glanced up to see John looking at her. He'd given her one of those I-acknowledge-your-presence-but-I'm-not-that-interested-really upwards nods. Riiiiight…

Did he really think she was being fooled?

For a split second, she'd considered saying hello to him. But she hadn't had much time to develop that thought, because in the next moment she was stumbling from the top of the stairs, and her thoughts were abruptly focused on more urgent matters: someone had pushed her and now she was falling!

Her body had kept switching positions as she fell, and it felt like each hard concrete step had made a point of striking somewhere different. She finally came to rest, the bottom stair delivering a final kick to her skull.

Through the slits of her eyelids, she'd been able to make out one blurry blue-clad figure kneeling next to her, but she wasn't certain who it belonged to. Her head was swimming, and she couldn't think straight.

John?

Then all went black…

Antoinette came to in the hospital. She had no idea how long she had been out, but her neck was in a brace, her pinky was splinted and her left leg was in a cast. The pain that suffused her body had subsided to a dull roar, but only because the doctors had her hooked up to some really good drugs.

Antoinette spent two weeks in the hospital, and when she wasn't receiving visit from friends and family, she was stewing in her own juices. Somebody actually pushed her! It was no accident! But why? Then her mind raced back to the nod John had given her just before it happened, and it started making sense to her.

That evil bastard! And to think I almost felt sorry for his crazy ass!

She couldn't wait to get out of the hospital. Oh yes, she and he would have a little chat.

On the Tuesday, the day after her release, she really wasn't obligated to go to school, but she went anyway. She was on a mission.

She waited until the starting of sixth period (her lunch period) and got a visitors pass from the security guard to be let into the building.

Since the bell had just rung, the hall was full of students, but she spotted John by his trademark blue denim jacket.

There goes that psycho bastard!

Nette made a beeline for him. She wasn't exactly certain what she was going to do or say when she actually reached him, but seeing him face-to-face only amplified her resolve. Her hand shot up to connect with his unsuspecting face.

You sick bastard! "What if I had broken my blinkin' neck?" How COULD you!

She reared up for another one, but he caught her arm. She wrenched it from his grasp, not being able to stand being touched by the creep.

He backed up. She hoped to God that he could feel her glares, for that was all she was willing to let herself do. What she really wanted was to launch at him and tear his face off, and she was fighting that urge with all her might.

What he said next surprised her. It had cut straight through her anger, doused her rage as efficiently as a bucket of ice water.

She watched him carefully as he spoke, alert for the slightest sign of insincerity…and found none. This was the poise of guy that had finally had enough. She believed every word…and suddenly she felt awful.

Perhaps she should try to work on her mood swings; it was hard to be diplomatic when you were fighting with yourself to be civil.

He started to walk away.

Oh no you don't!

She reclaimed her original resolve and reached out to him, grabbing him by the back of his shirt. When he turned around she gave him one final appraisal, hoping to God that she wasn't making a mistake in giving this dude one last chance.

She couldn't let it end this way…She had to make this right.

"Let's talk."

She turned and stormed through the halls, dragging him along behind her. She needed to snag this opportunity before it passed—but he didn't protest, which surprised her.

Because she had chosen a very public place to confront him, she chose a private one to talk. The best place that come to mind was the library…she could usually count on to be empty at any time of the day.

She dragged him past the librarian and into the atlas-and-dictionary section. They took a seat, the smell of old books bombarding their nostrils.

They sat looking at each other at opposite ends of the table before she finally spoke.

"So, You say that you didn't have your friend push me?" she asked.

"That's right," John replied.

"And you were the one that called 911 for me?"

"Yup."

"Look," said Antoinette, reaching out to him. "Thank you. And I'm sorry for hitting you. Okay…" She took a deep breath and just let it all out.

"Can you really blame me for getting mad? Your idea of an introduction was trying to trip me, and then trying to fight me. That doesn't exactly scream 'gentleman material' to me. How could I not connect you with my fall? Now, I'm not one to shy away from a confrontation of any kind. I've been through with hiding and letting myself get walked all over since junior high school. I had my fill of bullies. I'm over that bullshit. But, at the same time, I'm not interested in getting in unnecessary fights, not when I could just as easily work it out with the person. And that's what I'm tryna do right now. So answer me this: if you're not such a bad guy how come you stroll around like you're supposed to be some kind of bad-ass? How do you expect anyone to look past you're attitude when you act that way?" she finished, taking a breath.

He sighed, and responded with his own verbal diarrhea. "My front is all I have. It's the only thing I have control of. If I lose it...then what do I have? Believe me, I don't wanna be like this. This sucks! This being an asshole thing is not who I really am, but who would care to find out?" After a pause he added, "I think you're the first person to ever take me aside and try to talk to me."

She began to feel for him. His honesty spoke to her. Her suspicions of him having his reasons were correct. Now she just had to get him comfortable enough to divulge more.

There was a long paused while she worked out what to say, during which he sat quietly, waiting for her response.

"We loners have to stick together!" Antoinette said finally.

"Then we wouldn't be loners," John answered with a smirk.

"Precisely," she concluded, smiling at him mischievously.

One week later...

The four teens sat together in the bleachers, eyes on the football game below. The five of them had finally gotten their differences worked out. Now they were there, together, to cheer on their football hero friend.

Yes…this was the way life should be. Antoinette smiled. When she'd started the school year, she'd never imagined that a loner-girl-by-choice like her could find such good friends…friends who where more different from one another than any group of friends had any right to be.

But that was the way she liked it. And she liked it a lot.

It was a beautiful Fall evening, the air was brisk and the atmosphere was alive with the shouts of the student body.

The cheers only grew louder as Brad dodged another player and dashed, scoring the winning touchdown. The crowd was in an uproar of joy. She, John, Liz and Pete leapt out of their seats, screaming along with everyone else.

It was so good to see John smile for once…if only it had lasted…

Explosions rang out from three directions, seemingly coming from nowhere, shattering the blissful mood. The screams of elation turned into screams of panic.

There was utter chaos as the students stampeded for any available exits. Antoinette couldn't see over the crowds, couldn't see what was happening on the field. Where was Brad?

The hordes of frightened students thinned as the bleachers cleared, and the field became more visible. In the middle stood twelve angry looking guys whose intense aggression seemed to be directed at the lone figure they had encircled.

Nothing made Antoinette angrier than to see a person being set upon and outnumbered. Without realizing it, she was making her way to the field, not knowing exactly what she planned to do once she got there. To her surprise she saw Liz, Pete and John by her side.

As they got closer to the field, they recognized their friend also rushing to the aid of the lone figure being assaulted…and they also realized that the men attacking him weren't men at all. They were faceless, humanoid creatures, with vine-like coils coming from their scalps, the color of dirty snow and ash.

It hadn't occurred to Antoinette to be afraid, but she definitely was now.

John would've never imagined that he would be sitting here, at this social event with these people…his friends…sitting next to her... It was amazing.

And it almost hadn't happened.

John stole a glance at Antoinette—no, "Nette", they were friends now.

That fact still felt unreal to him. He had friends now. Friends who actually gave a damn about him. And up until a month ago, he didn't even realize he was capable of giving a damn about anybody else…

Yet there he'd been, kneeling by Nette's side, and he had cared! More than cared, he'd been genuinely concerned! He couldn't help but feel a bit responsible for why she was at the bottom of the stairs, and for the first time, he'd been willing to take responsibility. Even if nobody believed it of him.

Like that tree in the forest…with no one there to see it, could anyone testify that it fell?

He found it surprisingly hard to leave her side, even when he was forced to. But he hadn't felt like playing the jackass bully, challenging this guy who had more rights to her than he himself could ever hope to.

So he ran…but not far.

He ran as far as the corner, no farther, and watched the paramedic van speed off. It would probably be his only chance to see her for a while…he seriously doubted he'd be welcome to visit her in the hospital.

On his long walk home, he began to reassess his friendships. It didn't take him long to come to a conclusion: that he didn't care for the people he called 'friends'. Nor did they really care about him; never could he approach them if he ever really needed anything. The thought of doing so had never even occurred to him.

On the Monday when he went back to school, he had been so preoccupied by thoughts of Antoinette in the hospital and his newfound need to talk to someone, that he hadn't noticed the whispers around school concerning his involvement in the accident. Everything came full-circle at lunchtime, though, when he approached the table he and the other two usually sat at.

Spotting the one that pushed her, John glared, gritting his teeth. When he reached the table and dropped his stuff, up stood the ass-of-a-friend, smiling like an idiot. John hadn't realized until that very moment just how much that smile got on his nerves. How much they both got on his nerves.

"No need to thank me," the fool began, putting a hand on John's shoulder, congratulating himself.

"Get your hands off me," John spat through gritted teeth as he swatted his 'friend's' arm off his shoulder. "Thank you for what?"

John couldn't believe how smug this guy was being. He had the urge to rip the smile right off his face.

"For what, he says!" said the smug jerk, gesturing to the third friend, and putting the hand back on John's shoulder. "Don't try to weasel your way outta owing me. For handling that black bitch, that's what!" shaking his head as if it were the most obvious thing ever conceived.

What! John had heard enough. "You mother f-" and without thinking, John decked the smug idiot right in the mouth and tackled him to the ground. "You take that back, you asshole!" growled John, rearing his fist for another one.

"What the hell is your problem, man!" protested his 'friend' from the floor. "You know you hated her as much as I did! I was doing you a favor!" the guy protested as he squirmed, trying to fight his way out from under the livid John.

Securely pinning him, John seethed, "A favor!"

He grabbed a handful of the boy's hair on either side of his head and slammed his head into the floor, then continued, "I don't call pushing someone down some stairs a favor! I didn't need a favor! I didn't have a problem with her!"

John successfully got in two more good punches before someone pulled him off.

Not caring who it was, not even looking back, John launched at that jack-ass again, and once again he was grabbed, held back, kept from his goal. He wanted to kill that jerk-off. He didn't care that the guy was already bleeding from the nose. But who the hell was this, tackling him?

When John decided to look up, he saw…Brad? And John's anger momentarily dissipated to shame. "Hey, what gives?" John asked, attempting to reclaim his vehemence.

"I could ask you the same thing," Brad sneered, with obvious disdain. "What the hell are you tryna pull?"

What? For the first time in his life, John was standing up for the right thing and STILL people were looking down on him, accusing him? He wrenched free from the jock's grasp.

"Stop walking around like the world owes you an explanation," John snapped. "I don't need to prove a damn thing to you! I don't need to prove to you that I didn't tell this dumb-ass to push her and that I'm just as worried as you are! And if you think for a hot second that I would want her to end up at the bottom of the stairs, then you're friggin' sick outta your head!"

John turned to leave, when Brad added, "Like I'm supposed to believe that you care!"

Not bothering to turn around he replied, "You know what? You don't gotta believe anything you don't wanna."

John decided that he'd pretty-much had enough of everyone. That day he ducked out of school early.

Every day for two weeks, he considered visiting her in the hospital, but he never did, never able to work up the nerve. Finally, the time came for Antoinette's release from the hospital—the day he was hoping for and dreading at the same time. And when he finally saw her, even though he was glad to see her, it was not a good meeting…

She spotted him and went straight for him. Despite himself, he smiled when he saw her, but that smile was promptly—and literally—smacked off him.

"That was for telling your friend to push me down the stairs!" she barked.

Her accusation smarted more than the handprint that was burning his left cheek. He had beat himself up enough over the past two weeks, and he had grown tired of being treated like some loathsome creature incapable of anything but trouble.

"What the hell is wrong with you? What if I had broken my blinkin' neck? Do you hate me that much!" she accused, rearing her arm up for another one, but he caught her arm and stared down at her.

"Excuse the hell outta me! I was actually worried about you!"

Snatching back her arm, she recoiled, "Oh, yeah? If you cared so damn much, how come you didn't come to check on me at the hospital?"

Good question.

Gingerly touching his face he shot back, "I cared enough to call the damn ambulance!" Seeing the surprise on her face, he added, "Yeah, that was me! And I did not tell my friend to push you! Damn, woman! Do you really think I'm that heartless?"

He took a step back and calmed himself down. After a deep breath he said, "You know what? I don't need this. I'm glad you're okay. You don't gotta believe that, that's your personal right. But don't come in my face and tell me I'm a heartless prick, 'cause you know jack squat about me. Excuse me for caring. I won't make that mistake again." Shaking his head, he turned to leave.

He only managed to take two steps before he felt a hand pull at the back of his shirt, accompanied by a more composed voice, "Wait a second," she said.

He turned around to face her. She surveyed him, and then hooking her arm in his she said, "Let's talk," and he let her lead him to the library.

There, they'd had a long chat in which he found himself confiding in her about his home life, how he became a bully—or more accurately, the student body's biggest pain in the ass—the altercation between he and his former friends and finally his concern for her safety for the past two weeks.

Since then he'd made it a point to seek her out, seeing as now she was his only friend, and frankly, he didn't feel like her other friends—namely Brad—would take too keenly to having him around. But it was more than that; he was looking for reasons to talk alone with her. He genuinely did enjoy her company.

But he wouldn't have her all to himself for long; Antoinette, being the diplomat that she was, made it a point to bring him into the group, and they were cool peoples, but he still wasn't sure that they wanted his company.

He personally didn't want to force his presence on them. But he soon came to realize that she was doing it for him—and it was working; they were warming up to him.

He learned firsthand that when she put her mind to something, she was sticking to it till the bitter end.

He also found out that he had quite a bit in common with all of them—Brad was the last to come around, naturally.

He found that he could talk to Pete about anything Sci-Fi, that Liz was almost as much of a music nut as he was, that Brad loved martial arts (and was good at it, too), and that Antoinette loved to write. He was able to divulge finally that he played the guitar.

Where had these people been all his life?

It became easier to approach them, even without Antoinette around. He'd even gotten so comfortable with Antoinette that he started calling her by her group-established pet name: Nette. And the rest of the group started making fun of him because they thought he had a crush on her. Well…

He wasn't too certain that Brad cared too much for the thought, even if it had only been a joke.

But now he could hang out with them, thanks to Nette's diligence. He was right to think that she was a hell of a girl…

When Liz came up to him and asked if he was going to the game, he was a bit taken aback. He hadn't even thought about it, but…why shouldn't he go? And when they got to their seats in the bleachers Pete and Liz sat on Antoinette's left and he sat on her right, which would play into Pete and Liz' teasing, because secretly he still wanted all her attention.

But they were there cheer for Brad…

Though he wondered, while occasionally looking at her thoroughly enjoying the game, if her enjoyment was due to the possibility that she may have feelings for their red-clad hero…

But aside from those nagging thoughts, he did enjoy the game, and cheered as sincerely as anyone when they won.

But then the cheers turned to screams, and he looked out at the field to see some guy being surrounded by a dozen angry-looking brutes…and Brad, still on the field, being drawn into the mix.

John saw something in Nette's eyes that let him know it was that time again. She was going to move. And whatever she decided, he'd be right there with her.

In an instant, they were making their way from their nosebleed seats to the field to help even the odds.

Helaprosti was one of the best and brightest of his class, reared into the deep traditions of the Jenom Clan, and they had great expectations for him. There should have been no doubt that he would be destined for greatness. Yet here he was, among these common people, seeking out the Chosen Five to beg them to accept the Knowledge.

Where had he fallen so far off course?

Sitting among the screaming masses, he somehow found the ability to think, and came up with an answer…

"It is because I am a fool," Helaprosti resolved, letting go of his own pride for once.

Helaprosti moved onto the Academy, where he excelled in every challenge. He was the Jenom Clan's pride and final hope—and he knew it.

But he had gotten sloppy and countless people, including a dear friend, paid for Helaprosti's carelessness with their lives. It would seem that he was still trying to live up to his potential. Shutting his eyes tightly in hopes of squeezing out the harsh memory, Helaprosti said a solemn prayer for forgiveness…

Maxedes, please forgive me for my folly. Please know I never wished you harm. By the Gods, I wish you had lived…"

Loud cheers broke him out if his revelry. From what he gathered, the game was over because he could see someone being hoisted onto the shoulders of his teammates, all cheering in victory. Good. It was time to get this groveling session over-with.

Just as he was about to stand, he felt an old, familiar sensation, like frost creeping up from the tips of his long, black locks and settling at his scalp. That sensation never meant anything good. Sure enough, onto the false turf of the field, developing from pools of quicksand came the soot-colored, vines-for-dreadlocks, faceless foot soldiers that reeked of dark magic.

Haezoh. Splendid.

Teleporting in a streak of bright white light, he rematerialized on the field thinking, I can handle these fools, for at the time only three had appeared. But when more kept coming he began to worry. Gil-Matri must be serious about this team not assembling.

The Haezoh stopped appearing after twelve, the final three apparently feeling the need to make a grand entrance by using those exploding seeds they liked to toss around. They enclosed him.

I'm good but not that good, thought Helaprosti, getting into the ready stance of a long-dead martial art.

Helaprosti raised an eyebrow as the Haezoh's movements shifted, taking into account the presence of an oddly-armored fellow also on the field. Strange…Haezoh were notoriously single-minded…they should have completely ignored any bystanders…unless…but no, there was only one…

Within moments, the oddly-armored fellow was joined by four more if his peers, making for a total of five.

Well, thought Helaprosti. It seems like I don't have to seek out the chosen ones after all.

Zen'Aku Lati, Tuesday, November 02, 2010