Warsinger by James Baldwin (most important books of all time txt) 📕

were nine statues: two rows of four facing each other, and one standing above the others in front of the doors. The Warsingers, each one perfectly cast in metal at about 1/20th their actual sizes.

“Hmm.” I took a step forward. “My Boss Arena sense is tingling.”

“Same.” Suri strode over to one of them and rapped it with her fist. It was hollow. “Hey, look... if you interact with them, you get some information.”

Curious, I went to the one nearest me. It was an eerie-looking thing, with a pyramid-shaped head and a circle of eyes, six floating arms, and no legs: just a series of rings that had been mounted with metal rebar to show how the torso floated above them.

[Perilous Symphony: the oldest of the true piloted Warsingers, it turned the tide against the Drachan for the first time in history. Renowned for its incredible sonic weaponry. Boy Soprano.]

“Wow...” I moved to the next one, which in my opinion, was even more badass than Withering Rose. It had a wary, angular, speed-demon kind of look about it, reminding me strongly of an EVA from my grandpa's favorite anime, Neon Genesis Evangelion. It was vaguely insectoid, patterned with diamonds and wielding wicked hand-embedded claws. A great spiked corona hung behind its head, with rays of different lengths projecting from the halo's ring.

[Black Mercy: A young Human-built Warsinger made for speed and camouflage, this agile artifact possesses the highest melee kill count of any Warsinger – as well as the record for murdering its own pilots. Drone Bass.]

“Murdering… its own pilots?” I winced, crossing over to examine the statue Suri had first visited: the bestial, vaguely dragon-like one we'd seen painted on the wall of the Shrine.

Karalti sniffed curiously at the next statue in line. “Some of these look so weird.”

[Lunar Conviction: A powerful melee-focused Warsinger credited with the destruction of General Kithras, the Rostori who commanded the Drachan's slave army. Baritone.]

The older Warsingers had alien, almost experimental designs, while the younger ones were mostly humanoid. All distinct works of art, one was clearly modeled on a unicorn, another a mountain goat. They all had pretty epic sounding mecha names: Perilous Symphony, Lunar Conviction, Radiant Eclipse, Pure Land, and Hanging Star. Black Mercy had a fast, ninja-like build. The second youngest, Killing Frost, was something of a throwback to the weird designs of the early Drachan War period. It was little more than a great big floating pod, its body wrapped in a sweep of Seraphim-like wings, its face an eerily beautiful, sexless mask. It had no legs... so I guessed it probably floated.

Taking pride of place above them all was Withering Rose. Even her statue radiated charisma and elegance. She stood in a casual warrior’s posture, her empty hands cupped around the hilt of absent swords. One would have been resting over her shoulder, the other pointed down at the floor. Her huge corona was cleverly articulated along rebar, so that it appeared to float behind her. One elegantly pointed foot rested on the severed avian head of what could only be an Aesari, boring into it, while the other hovered several inches above the floor.

“It’s missing its weapons,” Suri said. “And look at its feet. How does it even walk on those big spikes?”

“My guess is that it doesn’t,” Rin replied. “The major weaknesses of humanoid Artifacts are climbing and tripping. If they fall over, getting them back up is really not fun. Neither is dealing with people rappelling up the legs. Given the way they posed her, I suspect she might actually float.”

“The best machines are the ones with multiple failsafes, no wasted features, and that do the job they need to do,” I said, remembering something my D.I. had once told us. I approached the statue, and got a brief description, just like the others.

[Withering Rose: The youngest of all the Warsingers, she was constructed at the peak of the Drachan War. This Warsinger is considered to be the finest ever built, inspiring armies and claiming more Drachan and Aesari lives than any other. After being recovered and repaired, she was attuned to Sachara Ha’Shazir, an Aga warrior who used her to forge one of the largest human empires in history. Contra-alto.]

“So uh... what do we do here, exactly?” Suri looked around warily, as if expecting the statues to come to life and jump us. “Do we have to find the missing weapons? I’m not seeing any.”

“Yeah. And this door’s definitely locked.” Karalti was standing in front of them, looking up in wonder.

“You know, I have no damn idea.” I scratched my head. Other than the statues, there was nothing in the room. No switches, no oddly colored tiles… but then I had a bright idea. “Hey, wait a second. Are you any good at singing?”

Suri chuckled. “Yeah… no.”

“We might have to pretend. The descriptions of the Warsingers all have a musical pitch at the end.” I wandered back to Killing Frost. “See? This one's is 'Soprano'. I bet we have to like… sing at them.”

“The only way you might squeeze a soprano out of me is if you kick me in the crotch,” she replied flatly. “I can squawk a bit and see if I accidentally hit the right note on the alto and contra-alto?”

“Ooh! Voices! I might be able to help!” Karalti said.

“You don't have a voicebox, Tidbit.” I paused in front of the baritone statue. “No larynx that can sound human speech, at any rate.”

“I still have vocal cords, silly. I can't speak with them, but I can mimic a whole bunch of things. I've heard instruments, people singing, all kinds of noises... playing with those sounds is fun.” She came up beside me, and let a couple of experimental chirps before opening her mouth and blaring out a surprisingly masculine: “AHHHHH!”

Lunar Conviction's eyes kindled to life with white-orange points of flame, though it didn't move.

“Yay! Best at voices!” Karalti pumped her fist, and ran to the unicorn-like statue of Pure Land. “What's a mezzo-soprano?”

“Kind