The Combat Codes (18 page)

Over the past century, the two nations had gone head to head in numerous bouts. The disputes were most fierce over one area rich in elemental deposits along the Adar ridge, aptly called the Auralite Spine. The Spine had changed hands between Kiroth and Mercuri numerous times, each nation wresting control from the other and then conceding it again as the strength of their current Grievar champions ebbed and waned.

Nearly two decades ago, Murray could remember winning the Spine for Mercuri in a grueling fight against Drogo Salizar, one of Kiroth’s best fighters at the time. Murray had returned home to Mercuri to the blast of a thousand horns, the citizenry cheering him on as he was paraded down the central artery.

Since his demotion from the service, Murray had taken residence in Karsh to escape the fanfare of the city. Though it was considered the dregs, Murray enjoyed living amongst the immigrant population. He’d come to realize that the Kirothians here were no different from him. They’d come to Mercuri during a time of relative prosperity—seeking a better life for themselves and their children. They were following their path.

A curly-haired lady sitting under the awning of her house smiled at the two as they passed by. She used a pumice to rhythmically grind away at the contents of a large clay pot set in front of her.

A thin, balding man lifted a gate to a shotgun building. The man flashed a wide smile at Murray as he passed. “My-tee Moo-ray, bright morn!” the man yelled in a thick Kirothian accent through the rain as he waved enthusiastically.

“Bright morn to you, Santil,” Murray yelled back. This morning was anything but bright, yet Santil always managed to have a wide smile on his face.

The two continued through the neighborhood, passing shops and homes that were just waking up. The familiar smell of baked sponge bread wafted to his nose. The Kirothians only cooked the delicacy once every month, rationing out small portions of the bread every day to their hungry families.

Murray looked down to Cego, who also sniffed at the yeasty aroma in the air.

When they’d first arrived Upworld on the Lift, Cego’s expression had been one of complete surprise. Though onyx storms only happened a few times per year, most of the kids Murray brought Surface-side were already familiar with such weather patterns. Cego had pressed his face to the glass window, staring out at the storm in awe.

Murray had meant to ask Cego about his brooding several times over the past month, but he’d held his tongue. He didn’t want to dredge up any bad memories for the kid—wherever he’d come from, it couldn’t have been good. Going into the Trials with a clouded mind could be an especially dangerous thing.

Two kids, a few years younger than Cego, fell across their path, play-fighting in the rain outside of their house. Cego stopped abruptly—his shoulders tensing in anticipation.

One of the kids tossed the other to the muddy ground. The other boy, likely his brother, quickly pushed away and sprang back to his feet, laughing.

Cego watched the brothers with wide eyes. “They’re… having fun?”

“Yeah. That’s how it’s supposed to be,” Murray responded. “We’re born to fight. Modernday… things are more complicated.”

The two trudged through the muddy streets to the edge of Karth and beyond into Mercuri’s central sector. The Courthouse’s domed roof came into view over the tightly packed roofs of dilapidated buildings.

Some of the buildings were completely torn apart—eroded by weather and time and never fixed. The servicers didn’t come this way for repairs; there weren’t any bits in fixing up the dregs.

The Daimyo Governance would rather concentrate on creating new, high-profile projects like Albright Stadium. The bit-rich had already bought out front-row tickets at the Citadel’s new arena. Meanwhile, Murray could literally see through the crumbling wall of a building here in the dregs, where a lady was hopelessly attempting to hang her clothes to dry.

As they moved closer to the Courthouse, the sky darkened and the rain fell even harder. Cego peered out from beneath his hood to survey the folk around them. Clumps of them hid in the shadows under the eaves of the surrounding buildings to shield themselves from the rain, some attempting to keep warm by small bonfires.

Other folk stood openly in the elements, seemingly oblivious to the world around them. They were disoriented, stumbling around, shouting incoherently against the wind.

One lady with gnarled hair blocked their path, unaware that they were standing right in front of her. She held a small metallic cylinder up to her eyeball and pressed the button on the back. A short blast of light pulsed from the cylinder directly into her eye. The lady fell back into the mud, her eyes rolling back into her head and her face going slack.

“Cleavers,” Murray explained dryly to Cego as they continued past the lady. “Addicts.”

Photocleaving—a pulse of light directly to the retina that felt like the light of a real spectral swarm. The high only lasted about thirty minutes and then the user needed another blast. Murray shook his head. Somewhere out there, Daimyos were making a bit-fortune off of the mass of cleaver addicts in this city.

Murray and Cego continued on through the wreckage until they arrived at the very center of the city.

A sprawling domed building with a dirt lawn rose above the surrounding dregs—the Courthouse. The Courthouse’s marbled dome had originally been painted a brilliant white. The grand set of stairs leading to the glimmering steel Courthouse doors had once been magnificent—symbols of the path to PublicJustice. Go through those doors, and no matter who you were, you had a chance to get justice.

Now, the Courthouse façade was dulled and streaked with darkness like the rest of the surrounding dregs. Half of the stairs had completely eroded, and rust covered the great steel doors. More destitute congregated in front of the Courthouse steps.

“What are those folk waiting for?” Cego asked.

“Waiting their turn for processing,” Murray said. “They’ve got grievances to file with the courts. If they’re heard, they’ll be assigned a Defender to represent them in the Circle. Win them their justice.”

Murray didn’t tell Cego the rest of the story. The truth. The fact that PublicJustice was a darkin’ lie, a veil the Daimyo Governance put up to keep the masses in check. These folk wouldn’t find any justice behind the steel doors of the Courthouse.

Murray looked back down at Cego, who was staring up at the Courthouse steps with those wide eyes.

The kid didn’t deserve Murray’s truth.

*

Last night, restlessly turning in his makeshift cot out by Ruby’s soft red glow, Cego had replayed every possible scenario of the Trials in his head. He still wasn’t ready.

He looked down the road toward the Citadel’s oldest building—the Lyceum. The school sprawled out in front of him, grey ruins that curled along one side of the trench that surrounded the Citadel. Two rotundas anchored the Lyceum on either side, each capped with a glowing dome.

“The sister domes of the Lyceum,” Murray noted. “Trials are held in the Valkyrie, classes in the Harmony.”

They passed between several sets of pillars, each with elegantly carved statues standing atop them. Cego’s heart began to race as they climbed a short pair of steps and neared the entrance to the Valkyrie. Even through the din of the heavy rain, he could hear voices echoing from within.

A covered open-air walkway fed directly into the majestic rotunda. Hundreds of spectral torches filled the hall, casting flickering shadows up and down the tall walls. Stone pillars circled the room, each engraved top to bottom with ancient sigils.

There were hundreds of kids within the Valkyrie’s round walls. Murray directed Cego to the base of one of the pillars. “All right, kid, now we wait. Old Aon should be out shortly for the commencement.”

Cego nodded and glanced around him at the assortment of Grievar brood. They were all shapes and sizes. Some were stretching on the stone floor while others warmed up by jogging around the perimeter of the room.

Cego’s eyes were immediately drawn to a massive blond boy, his cheeks rounded into a strange smile, who stood like a giant amongst his peers. Two mercs stood at either side of him.

“Who is that?” Cego whispered.

Murray was looking at the giant boy with a deep frown on his face. “Brood of the harvesters. Scouts nabbed him from the outer rings,” Murray said. “No better than Thaloo’s slavers.”

Cego continued to scan the room, trying to push down the butterflies that were swelling in the pit of his stomach.

A tightly knit pack of kids chatted noisily in the center of the rotunda, segregated from the rest who orbited the fringes. Cego noticed they wore pressed uniforms, many emblazoned with colorful emblems.

“Purelights.” Murray saw Cego staring at the kids. “Most of ’em are likely brood of the Twelve. The big Grievar families that have been tied to the Citadel for centuries.”

Cego watched the purelights as they pointed at the blond giant and laughed, their glowing yellow eyes flickering against the torch light. They acted as if they owned the place already.

Cego’s eyes moved away from the purelights and settled on a boy across the room. He was robed, sitting cross-legged under the shadow of a pillar. What caught Cego’s attention was the steam that steadily billowed from the top of the boy’s bald head. His eyes were closed and he breathed deeply, quietly, even amongst the commotion in the room.

Suddenly, the boy’s eyes flickered open, directly meeting Cego’s gaze. The two maintained their stare for several moments before the boy shut his eyes again and continued to breathe in silence, the steam rising from his scalp.

Cego was about to ask Murray about the boy when he noticed two others jog past him. He stared at their backs, one large boy with thick, muscled shoulders, and another lean one with dark hair, the two running side by side.

Something about the two boys piqued Cego’s interest—the synchronized pace they fell into as they rounded the perimeter of the circular hall. Cego’s eyes followed them as they passed to the back side of the room.

The large boy playfully pushed his running partner, throwing him toward the center of the room. The smaller boy caught his balance with a hand on the floor, turning his face in Cego’s direction. The boy grinned as he turned back to his big friend, highlighting a scar that ran across his jaw. Knees.

There was no mistaking it; it was Knees, who threw a jousting elbow into the ribs of his large companion as they began to jog again—Dozer.

Cego shook in excitement, Murray looking down at him curiously. Dozer and Knees had made it out of the Underground. They’d escaped Thaloo’s.

Cego could barely contain himself from shouting from across the room but decided to wait until Dozer and Knees circled past him again. Cego smiled at Murray and slid behind the pillar.

Just as he saw Dozer’s bulky shadow cross in front of him, Cego shot his foot across his path, a basic sweep that caught the big boy right on the ankle and sent him sprawling forward to the ground.

Cego stepped out from behind the pillar as Dozer flipped around, his face contorted in anger until he met Cego’s eyes. Knees spun around, also ready to pick a fight with whoever had messed with his big friend.

“Cego!” Dozer charged toward him and wrapped him in a crushing bear hug, only setting him down when Cego began to cough from the pressure.

“We thought we be findin’ you here.” Knees smiled and clasped Cego’s wrist firmly.

“You told me I’d make it up here! Remember, Cego?” Dozer yelled.

“You don’t know how good it is to see you two,” Cego said. Amidst the horde of strange kids crowded in the big hall, the rain thumping down on the ceiling and the Trials ahead of him, it all somehow felt all right now that Dozer and Knees were here with him.

How were Dozer and Knees here with him?
“How, how did you—”

“You’re not going to be likin’ this…” Knees said.

“Any way you got here, I’ll take it. What happened? Did you escape somehow?” Cego asked.

“No. We be comin’ with
him.
” Knees directed his gaze across the hall to the pack of purelights in the center.

Cego stared at the pack again. A haughty laugh came from the center of the group. The cackle dredged up a sharp pain in Cego’s stomach. The group shifted and a boy came into view, standing at their apex. Shiar.

Cego could feel the anger ignite like oil-doused kindling. The vision of Weep on the ground and Shiar kicking the life out of him. Knees placed a hand on Cego’s shoulder to steady him.

“How, how—” Cego growled.

“Few days after you left, some big-time Scout from Citadel comes to be watchin’ us in the yard. He be especially interested in Shiar. Scout gets to talkin’ with Tasker Ozark, negotiating on Shiar’s patronage. Few days later, they hit on a deal. Ozark throws in the next two best from Crew Nine along with Shiar there, which be Dozer and me… We be packaged, the three of us,” Knees said.

“Whole time we were riding up on the Lift, I wanted to take Shiar’s head off.” Dozer growled. “But I also didn’t want to muck my chance of making it to the Lyceum and meetin’ up with you.”

Cego let out a deep breath. If it took Shiar coming up here to get Dozer and Knees back, he’d take it. They would find a way to avenge Weep, when the time came.

Murray stood several steps away, watching the reunion with a smile on his face but keeping his eyes on the balcony above.

“You two been practicing your techniques? Are you ready?” Cego asked, desperate to take his mind off of Shiar.

“Yeah, we be practicin’ the ones you showed us down below. Also, the Lyceum been runnin’ some practices when we got Upworld two weeks ago. Even worked along with those inbreeds,” Knees said, narrowing his eyes at the pack of purelights.

Murray chimed in. “That’s the doing of Commander Aon Farstead. He believes in starting all Grievar on equal footing, though that’s hardly possible with the advanced training most purelights get from birth.”

Knees nodded. “Yeah, we be up against quite a field.”

The Venturian sat on the stone floor, stretching out his legs as he looked out at the room of Trial takers. “I hear purelights usually be takin’ most of the placements. Last year, they say almost all the students that got through the doors came from the Twelve. Our chances be looking pretty dim right now.”