The Chosen (The Compendium of Raath, Book 1) Read Free Page B

the hard stone floor, cursing silently at the pain. He could
feel some sort of claws pressing through his hood and thought at
once of the Coraline Beast from The Book. But this creature wasn't
the Coraline Beast, for the Coraline Beast was much larger.
Whatever it was, it let out an otherworldly screech as Otom reached
up and grabbed hold of a thin leg, tossing the creature away. It
smashed against the stone wall.
    Otom threw his hood back now, balancing the
advantage of its claw-stopping thickness against the way it blocked
his visibility. He decided it would be better to be able to
see.
    He glanced around the room to find a macabre
scene. At least thirty Monks – almost the entire population of the
Monastery - were laying scattered about, bodies looking badly
beaten within their brown robes. Blood pooled around some of them,
limbs sticking out at odd angles, faces crushed and slashed.
    Otom stripped the robe from his shoulders,
not knowing if he could still move the way he had been able to
thirteen years ago. But he felt the need now, staring down the
monster he had thrown from his shoulders. The top half of his robe
now hung on his waist by the thick rope belt, dangling down to look
more like a martial arts Skada: loose, unrestricting.
    Otom hadn't always been a Monk.
    His body still rippled with muscles he had
built before his time at the Monastery. He had maintained his form,
often losing sleep and exercising late into the night to do so. Old
habits died hard and Otom was stubborn. But he hadn't fought,
really fought, in ages.
    Otom's attacker looked more bird-like than
anything else, but it had no wings. It was about five feet tall and
had some kind of a beak-like protrusion, but it had teeth where a
bird would not. Its beak and claws were wet with red blood and its
tongue, a disgusting purple thing, lolled out of the side of its
mouth like a dog who had finished running too hard. The creature
skidded, claws scrabbling awkwardly on the stone floor, giving Otom
more time.
    Otom gathered Fire and although he couldn't
attach it directly to the creature (it was impossible to attach
Fire to another living thing, even an abomination like this), he
let it sit hidden in his fists, burning there. A Monk could not be
physically burned by their own Fire, but it still felt horrible,
like gripping hot coals.
    Otom reached out with yet
another branch of his power. A wave of his Detection radiated
outward. He could feel the presence of other beings this way. He
couldn't feel this creature, though. It wasn't registering the same
way human's did. What trickery is
this? He did feel one other living thing
behind him. Likely another Monk, wounded and clinging to
life.
    The creature reached Otom, and it struck out
with a thin limb that looked disproportionately long for its body.
It whizzed through the air, but Otom raised a forearm to block its
path. Another strike came, this time a kick, and Otom caught the
bird's ankle with his own, using the creature's momentum to pull it
off balance. Then he opened his hand, revealed his Fire, and
slammed his palm into the creature's stomach. He heard a satisfying
crunch and sizzle followed by a surprised shriek as the thing
reeled backwards.
    Otom leaped forward, powerful legs closing
the distance quickly. This time the creature stabbed forward with
its beak, all the while gasping for breath. Otom saw the attack
coming and, while turning just enough to avoid it, delivered a
quick chop to the thing's neck. The creature reeled backwards
again.
    Otom didn't feel fear, only exhilaration. It
felt good to be who he had been all those years ago, if only
briefly. Friends of his lay dead on the ground here, but Otom felt
alive. Had this been in God's plan? No, probably not. God wouldn't
send a creature like this. Was it some sort of Foglin? Otom
remembered whispers about Foglins, but he had never been sure he
had actually seen one.
    The creature was slowing and Otom didn't
have a hard time knocking it to the