Threads That Bind (Havoc Chronicles Series Book 1) (19 page)

When that didn’t work, she began to position herself in strategic locations talking with Josh. When she saw me coming, she would grab him and kiss him with all the force she could muster. It was like watching a starfish attack an abalone. I could see Josh struggling to get air, but she would hold him until I had a good long look and had walked past.

A few weeks ago that kind of stunt would have had me in the bathroom in tears, but not any longer. Berserkers might age more slowly physically, but I felt as though my emotional aging had accelerated. High school antics and popularity contests now seemed childish.

Maybe it was the weight of responsibility that made me feel this way, or maybe it was because I had faced death and come out ahead, not once, but several times. But with everything I had learned since becoming a Berserker – about my mom, my dad, and even about myself - dealing with Ginger’s taunting didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore.

At lunch, Eric and Rhys explained what it means to bond to a weapon and why I needed to do it.

“Berserkers are immune to any man-made weapon,” Eric said. “A sword, a gun, anything that was built.”

“So, we’re pretty much invulnerable,” I said.

“Not even close. We can be killed by anything that is alive or was once living. That’s why most Berserkers choose weapons made of bone.”

“Why would I ever want to kill a Berserker?”

Rhys started to speak, but then stopped. He looked at Eric who shrugged.

“There’s a reason we’re called Berserkers,” Rhys said slowly.

Why was he hesitating? I leaned forward in my seat.

“When a Berserker ‘zerks, he channels some of his more... basic animal nature. The surges of anger and hate that accompany a ‘zerk can become overwhelming when you’re battling for your life.”

Anger and hate? What was he talking about? I had never felt anything like that. Sure, it took a strong emotion to get the ‘zerking started, but for me that emotion was usually fear or sadness. Anger and hate had never been part of it.

“Don’t worry,” Rhys added. “Those feelings are perfectly natural. We all experience them. During your training, we’ll teach you how to control those feelings – to channel them into your power. But every once in a while a Berserker gets lost in the emotional rush. They sort of go feral and can’t come out of the ‘zerking. They start attacking everything around them, both enemies and friends.”

I set my fork down and looked at both Rhys and Eric for any sign that this was some sort of joke, but even Eric looked serious, which was a rare occurrence.

The terror that was welling up in me must have been visible on my face, because Eric hit Rhys on the shoulder. “Look what you did,” he said. “She’s going to be terrified of ‘zerking now.” He gave me a comforting smile. “Don’t worry. Berserkers rarely go feral. There are only a few recorded cases throughout all of Berserker history.”

I looked at Rhys for confirmation and he nodded. “It’s true. No one’s really sure what causes it, but when it does happen, few forces on earth can stop an uncontrolled Berserker. We all take an oath that if it happens, we will do everything we can to prevent the Berserker from killing innocents - even if that means killing the Berserker.”

For several minutes none of us spoke, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I tried to imagine what it would be like to see one of the Berserkers go feral. Would I be able to kill a friend?

“Have either of you ever seen it happen?”

“Let’s talk about something else,” said Rhys. “There are other reasons why we use bone for our weapons.”

I opened my mouth to say that I didn’t want to change the topic, but Eric gave a little shake of his head and I bit my tongue. “Like what?” I asked.

“Bone enables Berserkers to bond to their weapons. Because bone was once alive, it allows the Berserker to imbue it with some of his essence.”

“Let me get this straight,” I said. “I’m going to put some of myself into some dead bones? That’s what you guys are talking about with this bonding thing?”

“Ah, Madison, you have such a refreshing way of stating the facts,” said Eric with a wink.

Rhys shook his head. “It’s not just some old bones,” he said. “For one thing, it only works with certain creatures, and for another, you have to do it very soon after you cut off the bones you need.”

“Think of it this way,” said Eric. “Imagine you accidentally cut off your finger. It can be reattached hours later and still function like it always did. The principle is the same – only it’s with something else’s bones rather than your own.”

“Ok, now this has gone from just gross, to extraordinarily creepy,” I said. “I’m going to cut off some creature’s arm or leg and then attach it to me?”

“Not like that,” Eric said. “Not physically. But it will be attached to you – a sort of spiritual alignment as opposed to an actual physical connection. It will feel perfectly natural to use. More like an extension of your arm than something you are holding.”

“Once bonded, it will feel like you’ve been using the weapon for your entire life, rather than for just a few minutes,” said Rhys. “You will still need to learn the moves and proper form, but trust me, it will make defending yourself much easier. That’s why your dad wants you to get bonded as quickly as possible. As a new Berserker, you need all the advantages you can get.”

***

When we got home from school, Dad was waiting for us out on the porch. Mom had gone out and we had the house to ourselves.

Dad took us through the entrance in the utility closet and into the training room.

“I know Mom has a haze on her,” he said, “but I would rather not take any chances in case she comes home early.”

Laid out on a table near the edge of the mats were four bone weapons. One was a long thin pole, devoid of decorations; one was a short club; another was the circular disc used by Rhys and my dad; and the final weapon was a pair of matching bone swords crossed on top of each other forming an X.

“I figured these four were our best options,” said Dad. “There are others, but we need to stick with the ones for which we have an experienced trainer on hand.” He picked up the short club. Rather than being a rounded stick, the club head was a six-inch-wide flat piece of bone that was tapered on each side almost like a blade.  “This is the Berserker version of a Mere,” he said. “A Maori war club.” He handed me the club. It was surprisingly heavy. “Notice how it narrows to a rounded edge? This club is meant to inflict a lot of damage at a very short range.”

I stepped onto the mat and swung the club around. It looked like it would really hurt if it connected, but it was heavy and awkward. I supposed if I was ‘zerking the weight wouldn’t be a problem, but what about carrying it around in between times? I handed it back to Dad, who returned it to the table.

“Aata uses the mere and would be able to train you on its proper use,” he said.

“Yeah, that’s a tough one to figure out,” said Eric. “Swing it around and hit things.”

“You don’t approve?” said Dad.

Eric shrugged. “I just think it would be a poor choice for Madison. It’s too heavy to carry around – half the time Aata doesn’t use it because we’re attacked unexpectedly and he doesn’t have it with him. Plus, its range is so short that she’d be in danger before she even had time to use it.”

Dad nodded. “All valid points,” he said. “Let’s pull out something you might have less objection to.” He picked up the long thin pole. “The short staff.”

I took the staff and walked onto the mats. The pole felt light and smooth in my hands. Theoretically, I knew how this should work. I gripped it in both hands and swung it in several arcs.

“The advantage of this is that it is light and portable,” said Dad. “It hardly looks like a weapon once it has been collapsed down.” He took the staff back and pressed something. There was a small click and then Dad was able to collapse it into a section about six inches long – easily small enough to fit into a purse or a jacket pocket. “Eric uses the staff,” said Dad, “when he bothers to use a weapon at all.”

Eric shrugged. “What can I say? I prefer the natural approach.” He pulled a collapsed staff from his pocket and quickly extended it. He walked onto the mat and began a complicated pattern of thrusts and slashed that soon had my head spinning.

“Obviously,” Dad said, “Eric is our resident staff expert and would train you should you choose to go that route.”

Next, Dad handed me the pair of swords. The blades were about two feet long and curved into hooks on the ends. The hilts themselves were rounded, but the hand guards surrounding the hilts were half moons of bone filed into points.

“These are Tiger Hook swords,” he said. “Go on, give them a try.”

I held a sword in each hand and began swinging them. They felt even more awkward than the Mere club. I was sure any second I was going to accidentally impale myself.

Rhys stepped forward. “These are probably the most deadly of all the weapons here,” he said, “but they are also the most difficult to learn.” He reached out and took the swords from me. “Let me show you what it looks like, so you can give them a fair evaluation.”

A sword in each hand, Rhys began swinging in slow arcs, gradually increasing in speed. In his hands, they became deadly weapons with multiple ways of attacking and stabbing an opponent. At one point, he even used the hooks at the end of the blades to attach them together, creating a weapon with a much longer reach.

While beautiful to watch - it didn’t hurt that it was Rhys doing the demonstration – I just couldn’t see myself ever being coordinated enough to use two blades at once and not hurt myself. Even with enhanced Berserker speed and agility, it looked too complicated.

When Rhys was done, Dad put the twin swords back. “As good as Rhys is with the Tiger Hook swords,” said Dad, “Shing is the expert and would be the one to train you.”

Finally, he pulled out the round disc. He pressed a button and the disc unrolled into a four foot long sword. This was the first time I had been able to really examine one of these up close. The other times I had seen one had been during battle and I hadn’t really gotten a good look.

Dad handed me the sword. “This is called a varé.”

The varé appeared to be made from dozens of tiny bones, all attached through a series of pins. The base of the sword was hollow and tapered into a thin point at the top. This allowed the sword to be rolled up into the compact disc. The butt of the sword curved in, forming a smooth bone handle.

I took the sword and began to swing it around. It was lighter than the Tiger Hook swords or the Mere club. While it wasn’t exactly graceful, the varé did feel less awkward.

Dad showed me the release mechanism, and the sword immediately rolled itself into a small disc in my hand - a definite advantage.

I set the varé down on the table. It was time to choose.

The Mere and the Tiger Hook swords were definitely out, so I moved them aside, leaving the staff and varé lying next to each other on the table. The staff had a longer range, but it just didn’t feel as deadly to me as the varé. I had seen Rhys use the varé and I knew firsthand what kind of damage it could do. Plus, I felt a stronger emotional attachment to the varé since I knew it was the weapon my dad had used.

I picked up the varé. “This one,” I said.

Dad smiled. I could tell he was pleased with my pick.

Eric was another matter.

He wasn’t exactly frowning, but there was no longer any trace of a smile and he stared at the floor.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Nothing,” he said. “I think I need some air. I’ll meet you guys upstairs when you’re done.”

As Eric ascended the stairs I looked back at Dad and Rhys. “Did I do something wrong?” I asked.