That Don’t Impress Me Much : Part 70

Wordcount: 523 words
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Summary: Please note, this is currently a very rough draft. There will be spelling and grammatical errors afoot as well as flat out bad writing, info dumps, plot holes, flat out contradictions, and uneven characterization and pacing. (Content is also subject to constant change as I take an editing chainsaw to the story.)

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More Like Me

“Are there other people who can do this?” May asked. “Whatever this is?”

“Yes.” Said Omen.

“A lot of them?”

“Enough.” He said, dodging the question.

“Enough for what?”

“To win a war, when it needs to be won.” Omen looked at her. “I can find someone else, could have found someone else, but you are not that common.”

“Then why are not there more of us that can do this? More foxknights?”

“Because you are not meant to be riders.” Omen sniffed. “You are meant to be aberrations. Alone you are not dangerous.”

“So how do the stormhawks do what they do, if I am just an aberration?” Asked May. “They don’t have riders, don’t have one of whatever the hell it’s I am and they do the same things.”

“But they don’t,” Omen said, “they have themselves and only themselves and you have as many people as you can control.”

“So why don’t the foxhawks do it themselves?”

“We don’t have silvers here.” Omen said, as if this was a solid fact.

“They don’t have golden foxhawks there.” Pointed out May, sharply.

“I like here better.”

“So whatever I am is like what they are, only not quite?”

“No, you are something different.” Omen said, “Without a foxhawk you are nothing.”

“And without me they are not anything either.” She pointed out.

“And it’ll stay that way.” Omen said, with finality.

“But what If this happens again, what if they come back? Keep coming back?”

“There will be golden foxhawks.” Omen said firmly

“Golden foxhawks that don’t tell anyone else what’s going on.” May snapped. “Who only turn up when it’s already too late.”

“Baron broke—“

“Baron nothing,” May interrupted, “they came a year early, what did Baron have to do with that?”

Omen said nothing.

“Or was Oak Grove meant to fall?” She asked, after a moment. “If you had not chosen me, I would have been in Oak Grove with my uncle anyway. So you would have had to come save me regardless.”

“You would have been somewhere else in a year.” Omen said. “The fledgling class would have been assigned a new location and you would have been gone.”

“So the storm was meant to keep me here?” May was confused. “But you said it was an attack.”

“It was,” Omen said. “I never said from who.” But he shook his head after a moment. “The storm was meant to test and see if the dreams were true. It would have come regardless, but I could have warned them if I saw it coming. I did not see it because I can’t see anything.”

“Baron can’t either.”

“The future is broken and we are at a disadvantage. They came early, but they would have held off if you had not been there to find.”

“So we need our future back.” Said May finally.

“It’s not that easy.” Snapped Omen.

“Is not it? We need a future, the oracle tells the future.”

“The Oracle is a myth.”

“Oh, like people from beyond the sea and magic?” May snapped. “Because right now, I am inclined to believe in fairytales.”


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Martha Bechtel

My name is Martha Bechtel and I write fantasy and science fiction stories, paint small model horses silly colors, cast resin and plaster magnets, code random code (and Wordpress plugins)... Come on in and join in the fun!