Glimmer 1.5

School was standard, for most of the next day. The girls were still trying to get at me with words, words, words, and I was still having none of it.

I'd brought Vilya—despite its impressive performance the night before, I still hadn't tested it in school and I wanted to see how it worked out of combat. It became clear really quickly that Vilya wasn't Narya. I wasn't practically busting at the seams with confidence the way I had been on Friday. But I wasn't weak, either. I was a buried boulder to Narya's raised obelisk—more unassuming, but even less pliant.

But one thing was worrying me. Something had set Sophia off, and not in any way I wanted. If she'd just stepped up her campaign to physically harass me at every turn, that would've been fine. I could take that now, easily.

No, instead, she'd withdrawn a bit. She was still taking part in the teasing and the insults, but she never even came within arm's length of me once, all day. Something I'd done, the previous Friday, had set her on edge.

Which of Narya's powers had she observed? Obviously, I'd been behaving differently; was it simply my newfound confidence that had tipped her off? Or had she heard of my increased strength from the girls in the bathroom? Or had it been the way the lunchroom parted for me when I passed?

For now, I doubted it mattered, but something about the girl had set Narya off as well, and Vilya was responding to her, too. Malice, backed by power. I would have to be careful.

Not too careful, though. I'd just faced down Lung and survived. I could handle Sophia Hess.

I had computer class with Mrs. Knott that day. Once I'd done the assignment, which took all of three minutes, I started browsing the Web, looking for information on the local cape scene. Specifically, I tried to learn more about the Wards.

The local Wards were seven in number.

Their leader, Aegis, was a classic brute: flight and redundant biology, which he could abuse to become an absolute tank on the battlefield.

Clockblocker was a striker who could freeze objects, including other people, in time. Kid Win was a tinker—like me—who used lasers and a hoverboard.

Browbeat was another brute who didn't have flight but who seemed to heal faster than Aegis did.

Gallant was possibly a tinker, although there was some speculation on PHO that his power armor was maintained by another tinker. Regardless, he could apparently sense and influence emotions.

Vista was younger than the other Wards, but had been a member for longer. She could apparently bend and stretch physical space.

Shadow Stalker was a former vigilante who carried a crossbow and could transform into a breaker state which made her look like a moving wisp of shadow.

The Wards program as a whole seemed to be a pretty good deal, but then, it had really good PR. Heroes were compensated both weekly and by way of a trust fund, accessible when they turned eighteen. In addition, tinkers—those whose inventions were replicable, at least, which wasn't all of them—would sell their patents to the PRT and would receive compensation.

There was discussion on PHO about whether it was more that they had to sell their patents, but that was probably no big deal to me. My armor and weapons were nothing special except that they were made of mithril, which only I could summon, and I seriously doubted my Rings were replicable.

And even if they were, there was always—

I shook off that idea. I really didn't want to go there with my powers. I leaned back in the library chair with a sigh and thought about it.

On the one hand, that was an inflow of money—money both my dad and I sorely needed. It was also support, and possibly even a way to find allies to whom I'd want to give more of the Rings of Power.

On the other hand, it was a bureaucracy, an authority, to which I would be willingly subjecting myself. If Principal Blackwell and the rest of Winslow's staff had taught me anything, it was that authority was corruptible and, as a rule, untrustworthy.

Besides all that, I'd have to expose my weaknesses. I wasn't stupid enough to think I was invulnerable. All it would take was one Ring stolen, one dagger in the back, one slash across the knuckles, and I'd be down. End of story. Having to publicize that my powers came from my Rings didn't sit well at all.

I needed to think further. And I needed to finish my spear.

-x-x-x-

On my way home, I stopped at a supermarket and got myself a small, easily-concealed safe with a combination lock. It wasn't a permanent solution, nor a perfect one, but I had a feeling something would present itself. Already I was having ideas for a mithril lockbox which couldn't be opened by anyone but the owner.

I didn't understand exactly how it would go about being permanently locked, but I'd learned not to question my powers. The Three worked fine, after all.

"Welcome home, Taylor," my Dad called from the couch as I came in. "How was school?"

"Not bad," I said honestly.

"Really?" he asked, a smile spreading across his face.

I chuckled. "Sophia didn't try to push me around today," I said, and then frowned. "I'm worried about it, actually. I'm hoping they're not planning something big."

My Dad winced. "'Big' as in…"

I sighed. "It's not out of the question," I admitted. "If they think they're not getting through to me, and they're not, they might escalate."

"What do you want to do, then?" Dad asked. "We could… I don't know, I guess we could try to take it to the administration again?"

I shook my head. "No, you don't get it," I said. "I'm worried they'll escalate, but not because I'm afraid of what might happen to me. I just don't want to have to escalate back." I grinned at him. "They pulled out all the stops a while back. I've got some ideas on how I can pay them back, if I need to."

Dad still looked worried. "Just promise me you'll be careful, Taylor," he said. "When they called me, after…"

"I know," I said gently. "I promise, Dad: I won't be getting shoved into any lockers or put into the hospital by those bitches again anytime soon."

-x-x-x-

I spent the rest of the evening molding mithril into the bladed head of that spear. In all honesty, it was less a traditional European spear and more a Japanese naginata, with a curved blade at the end.

On the flat of the blade, I carved a verse in a flowing script whose origins I didn't know. As I carved, I whispered the words to myself.

Gil-galad ech vae vaegannen matha
Aith heleg nín I orch gostatha
Nin cíniel na nguruthos
Hon ess nín istatha:

Aeglos

I pulled away the summoned hammer and chisel and studied the Tengwar inscription. This is weird, I thought. A whole language, now? Do other Tinkers get things like this?

I sighed. It wasn't as though it didn't look fantastic. The engraved script seemed almost to shimmer blue against the silvery metal of the blade.

"Aeglos, huh?" I said softly, running my finger along the dull side of the blade. It was ice-cold to the touch. "You'll do nicely."

It was getting late, but I still had to bind the head to the haft I'd carved before. I did that with mithril bolts and some welding, and by then it was dark.

And now it was time to make decisions. Should I go out again tonight? Sleep deprivation didn't seem to be affecting me too badly as long as I kept my Rings on. I could probably manage it.

Or should I contact Armsmaster and the Protectorate? Much as I didn't really like the guy, he was right about one thing: I needed a team. Alone, I wasn't a pushover. With a solid group of Ring-Bearers behind me? I'd be unstoppable.

What was I so afraid of? Betrayal? I could handle betrayal, I thought. The only worry I had was that it would kill me before I dealt with it.

Realistically, though, was that likely? Did I really think the Wards could have stayed as a prominent, heroic organization if they were the type of group to take advantage of their members to that extent? Sure, they might try to stick me in a lab and get me forging Rings for them permanently, but if that happened—

I bit my lip, but carried the thought through.

-If that happened, I could always forge the One and make them let me out.

I really didn't want to, though. I didn't want the One to be necessary. But they'd never done that to tinkers before. Kid Win, Gallant, and Armsmaster all went out into frontline combat just fine.

It'd be a good idea to downplay my Rings if I decided to join the Wards. Make them seem like ordinary, if powerful, tinkertech, instead of the fantastically broken artifacts they were.

Was it possible for me not to tell them about the Rings at all? Could I, say, claim to imbue my armor with powers, one powerset at a time?

I sighed. My train of thought was too far down the rabbit-hole. Crossed my room and stood before my window, opening the blinds and the glass pane.

The stars were dim overhead, and shone pale and stark in only a few places against the black. Brockton Bay didn't offer much by way of stargazing, with the haze of city life and the light pollution washing out the sky.

I sighed, breathing in the cool spring air. Only one question mattered: Did I want to join the Wards? In the end, no matter what team I joined or formed, I'd have to open myself to betrayal from them, unless I wanted to go full Heartbreaker and make myself a force of Ring-thralls. And I didn't.

I really, really didn't.

The Wards were heroes, but I'd had a hero once. Her name was Annette Hebert.

I'd had two. The other was named Emma Barnes.

Vilya glimmered, and a single star, bright in the northern sky, seemed to twinkle brighter, as if in response.

I brought the Ring of Air to my lips, closing my eyes as I felt the cool metal against my skin.

Could I do this?

I smiled slightly.

Yes.

This world wasn't good to heroes, and anyone who believed in them was slowly learning cynicism. Brockton Bay hadn't had any hope for a long time.

I slipped Vilya off of my finger, crossed to my desk, dropped it into the lockbox, and slipped on Narya. The rush of fire, hot in my veins, invigorated and revived me, instilling a sense of purpose.

If the world wasn't willing to provide heroes, well, I'd just have to be one. The Wards were a start, but only a start. I had no illusions: the Protectorate ladder, with its bureaucracy, its rules, its rigidity, and its sense of entitlement to the very idea of heroism was not going to be by career path for the rest of my life.

But it was a start. In the Wards, I was fairly sure I could find a few like-minded people, people who were tired of the bullshit and the status quo, people who were willing to strike out on their own in the name of making a change.

So that was the plan. Today, the Wards—tomorrow, independence. One day, perhaps, I could look out my window and not have to look at the stars to find beauty.

But the Wards were a government organization, and they'd never allow me to join without parental approval. I was sure they'd willingly employ some morally gray methods to get that approval, if I asked, but I doubted that would be necessary.

I slipped into my armor. Only one thing was necessary now.

I left my room and headed downstairs. "Dad?" I called. "We need to talk."