The Combat Codes (25 page)

The room was deathly quiet. Even the purelights shut up in anticipation of the selection.

Aon continued. “This year’s Trials were unique. Extraordinary, really. I truly believe this class to be the Citadel’s best over the past several decades—and that includes classes with some our most notable Knights of recent times, with the likes of Derondal Markspar, Artemis Halberd, and Murray Pearson.”

Cego looked up at Murray, but the burly Grievar didn’t even blink.

“The scores of our top three were unparalleled this year.” Aon spoke even softer, though Cego could hear the Commander’s voice ringing in his eardrums. “I believe it is a sign. Of times to come.”

Many of the Citadelians in the room took Aon’s words as a rally cry—they responded with a chorus of
osss
that echoed across the chamber. Aon held his hand up to silence them.

“Do not take my words lightly.” Aon’s blank eyes swept across the room. “In the times that approach the Citadel, we have two paths, one in the light and one in the shadows. Just as we choose our new class today, we must choose which path to take in the coming days. How we proceed and how this new class is shaped will determine the Citadel’s future—Mercuri’s future.”

Aon handed the scroll he had examined earlier to a Grievar that stood beside him, a stocky man with thick shoulders.

Murray whispered in Cego’s ear again. “That’s Mack Hunt, the Lyceum’s professor of striking.”

Professor Hunt read from the scroll in a booming voice.

“If your name is called, step forward into your designated slot at the front of the room.”

Cego noticed twenty four circular steel platforms lined up beneath the balcony along the wall.

“Our twentieth-fourth pick is Mateus Winterfowl, age fifteen, of Mercuri’s Vega District.”

A purelight with a sharp plume of blond hair jutting from his scalp stepped forward and onto the platform farthest to the right. The boy raised his hands into the air as the crew of purelights cheered and clapped their hands together in unison.

The platform Mateus stepped onto began to pulse. Cego craned his head forward for a better look—the platform was composed of some elemental alloy, just like the Circles. Answering the call of the alloy, the spectrals congregated in the hall’s domed roof slowly began to float toward the ground, like feathers on a soft wind.

Several of the spectrals found their way to Mateus, bathing the boy in a victorious glow. As the light covered him, his image suddenly flared to life along one of the chamber walls. Beside Mateus’s image, his biometric stats came to life on the wall.

Murray whispered to Cego again. “Class biometrics are now up for the public on SystemView, all day, every day.”

Professor Hunt continued reading from the scroll with his booming voice. “Our twenty-third pick is Tegan Masterton, age fourteen, of Mercuri’s Vega District.” A purelight girl with tightly braided black hair stepped from the center of the room onto the next platform over, her image and biometrics also getting displayed on the wall.

Just as Cego expected, most of the picks were purelights, and the majority of those were from Mercuri’s Vega District—an exclusive area of the city where the Twelve Grievar families resided.

A few lacklights were interspersed within the picks. Cego watched as the huge boy from the outer rings stepped onto the platform, that strange smile broad on his face. Cego had secretly been curious to see the boy’s biometrics, and he wasn’t disappointed. Joba Maglin, age nine, six-foot-four, three hundred twenty pounds. Someone from the crowd shouted, “Freak!” though the boy kept smiling.

A smaller, dark-skinned lacklight stepped onto the steel platform. “Our eighteenth pick is Abel Mohandar, age thirteen, of Mercuri’s Karsh District.” Someone in the room yelled, “Sponge eater!” Several others laughed as the boy stared out from his platform.

Cego recognized where Abel hailed from—Karsh—as the district Murray lived in, primarily composed of immigrants from Kiroth. Murray had told him that due to the competitive nature between Mercuri and Kiroth, there was constant discrimination toward Kirothian immigrants like Abel, even though some of them had inhabited Mercuri for several decades now.
Sponge eater
was a derogatory name for Kirothians, referring to the squishy bread they frequently baked.

Cego wondered what the purelights would scream when he stood up there.
If
he stood up there. Perhaps Murray had too much confidence in him. Maybe his score wouldn’t stack up against all the other seasoned fighters in this room.

“Our twelfth pick is Dozer, age fourteen, of the Underground.”

Dozer was in. Cego quickly forgot about his worries when he saw the expression on his big friend’s face—pure elation. He thought back to his time in the Deep with Dozer, when his friend would constantly remind everyone that someday, he would be studying at the Lyceum. Shiar and most other kids had constantly dismissed Dozer’s dreams back then.

Dozer stepped forward onto the twelfth platform, his face frozen in a huge, toothy grin even as the purelights hissed and booed at him—“Deep scum! Dark slagger!” Cego didn’t think Dozer’s smile could get any bigger, but it did, as soon as the next name was called.

“Our eleventh pick is Knees, age thirteen, of the Underground.”

Knees didn’t share Dozer’s elation as he stepped toward his platform. He walked toward it unsteadily, as if he didn’t know where he was. The spectrals that cast their light on Knees only served to illuminate the void look on his face.

Cego proudly watched his two friends standing against the wall. Several months ago, they had been fighting for their lives in Thaloo’s slave Circle. Now they’d just gained admission into the world’s most prestigious combat school.

The next several picks were more purelights from Mercuri’s long-established Grievar’s bloodlines. Each one was met with louder roars of approval.

They were down to the final six spots and there were still over fifty kids in the room that hadn’t been picked yet, including Cego. Murray placed his hand on Cego’s shoulder reassuringly. Now that Knees and Dozer were up there, he wanted more than anything to gain entrance into this year’s class.

“Our sixth pick is Marvin Stronglight, age fifteen, of Mercuri’s Vega District.”

A lanky boy with a long mane of tangled black hair stepped onto the sixth platform.

“Our fifth pick is Solara Halberd, age fourteen, of Mercuri’s Vega District.”

Though Solara was a purelight, and the daughter of the most famed of all active Grievar, the rest of the purelights quickly quieted down as she took the fifth spot against the wall.

“Our fourth pick is Shiar Shankspar, age thirteen, of Mercuri’s Vega District.”

Shiar’s place of origin was not listed as the Underground. It was as if they’d erased that blotch from his past. Shiar stepped forward onto the platform, smirking as the purelights showered him with cheers.

“Our third pick is Gryfin Thurgood, age fifteen, of Mercuri’s Vega District.”

The chiseled Thurgood boy stepped forward onto the platform, smiling through his pearly white teeth. He looked like the epitome of a Grievar—the sort that Cego had seen in the ads up on SystemView. Several of the girls in the chamber cheered especially loudly as Gryfin waved out at the crowd.

Cego breathed out forcefully, trying to steady his heartbeat.

Professor Hunt took his time, waiting dramatically to read the next name from the scroll. Finally, his voice boomed.

“Our second pick is Cego, age thirteen, of the Underground.”

Murray clasped Cego’s shoulders and prodded him forward. “Well done, kid. You were made for this place.”

Cego nodded to Murray in thanks and stepped forward. What did Murray mean, though—
you were made for this
place
?

As expected, the purelights in the room shouted various insults as Cego walked toward his spot against the wall. “Cave dweller! Deep scum!” Of course, Cego had become used to such derogatory terms, confined with Shiar for so many months in the Underground.

Second pick
. He’d made it. Just as Murray had said, he was nearly at the top of his class. Cego caught Solara Halberd’s steely stare as he approached his spot. He took his place at the front of the room with his class as several of the spectrals slowly circled him.

Cego, age thirteen, of the Underground.
Professor Hunt’s words echoed in Cego’s head as he stood on the platform, looking out into the chamber.
Of the Underground
. Those words were a lie. Cego wasn’t from the Underground. He was from… somewhere else.

Everyone had an origin, even those from the Deep. Except him. Cego’s mind wandered back to the Trials, to the blue skies of the Island and Farmer sitting in front of him in the ironwood Circle. Until recently, that is where Cego had thought he was from. Until the Trials, Farmer had been the man who had raised him. Now he didn’t know anything.

Cego nearly forgot there was one more name to be called. The top spot. Even with his inherent knowledge of the Trial, Cego hadn’t gotten the top spot in this class. There was one ahead of him. Someone better.

“Our first and top pick for this year’s Lyceum class is Kōri Shimo, from Mercuri’s Vega District.”

Another purelight. Of course, Cego thought. Who else but a purelight, bred from birth for this sole purpose, would get the top spot?

The crowd parted as a figure at the back of the room slowly stood and walked forward. Cego quickly recognized the bald head. It was the boy who had made steam rise from his scalp, the one sitting silently by the pillar during the Trial’s commencement gathering.

Kōri Shimo didn’t have the look of a standard purelight. He wore simple clothing, white trousers and a tunic, not the expensive garments worn by so many of the purelights standing up on the platforms.

Shimo certainly was athletic-looking—tall, with long arms and legs—though none of his features stood out in particular. He wasn’t a giant, like Joba Maglin, or a chiseled statue like Gryfin Thurgood. In fact, he was fairly plain—average, even. Cego could probably say the same about himself.

Cego’s confusion was mirrored by the rest of the purelights in the room. They didn’t clap for Kōri as they had for the rest of their brethren. Many peered out at him in confusion, trying to recognize one of their own who had taken the top spot.

Kōri slowly paced to the front of the room and stood next to Cego on the first platform. He didn’t appear to be happy or sad. He looked as if he had just gotten out of bed and was wondering what he’d have for breakfast.

Aon’s whisper broke the silence. “I present the Lyceum’s new class of Level Ones.”

*

Within an hour, the crowd had filtered out of the Valkyrie’s rotunda and only the twenty-four new Lyceum students and Professor Mack Hunt remained.

Murray had walked to Cego’s side before he left, grasping his shoulder tightly. “I’m going to figure this out for you, kid. I promise,” the burly Grievar had said. “Just concentrate on your studies.”

Cego hadn’t known how to reply to Murray. Part of him didn’t even want Murray to delve into his past—perhaps it would be easier to forget where he came from. He’d replied, “Thank you, Murray-Ku,” as the man turned and walked from the hall.

Cego stood by a pillar with Dozer and Knees as they waited for something to happen. Dozer was having trouble containing his excitement in front of Knees, who was statuesque in his silence. Cego knew now was not the right time to prod his Venturian friend about what had happened within the Sim.

“Do ya think we’ll get to bunk together? Just like in the Deep?” Dozer asked.

“Don’t know,” Cego replied. “Though I hope I don’t end up with the lot of them.”

Cego looked wearily at the pack of purelights, who had stayed clumped together, chatting in excitement. Gryfin Thurgood stood tall and proud at the center of the pack. Shiar was at Gryfin’s side, whispering to him. The jackal was already trying to form his allegiances.

A few other kids were scattered around the room, like solitary islands at the fringes of the mainland.

Solara Halberd stood apart in proud indifference from the rest of the purelights. She looked like she was ready to pick a fight, her fists clenched and her jaw tucked.

The smallest of the twenty-four, the dark-skinned Kirothian named Abel, had made his way to the side of the biggest boy in the room, Joba Maglin. The two looked like a parent and child in size difference, though Cego knew Joba was actually the youngest kid in the class. Abel whispered something that widened Joba’s strange, broad smile.

Kōri Shimo, the first pick, was sitting cross-legged by a pillar, just as he was when Cego had first seen him. His eyes were closed. Many of the kids in the room occasionally shot nervous glances at the boy.

“Shut up and line up! On the wall!” Professor Hunt suddenly called out in his booming voice.

The kids quickly scrambled to get in a line against the wall, the purelights jostling to keep together.

“I am Professor Mack Hunt.” The man’s voice softened now that he had their full attention. “As Commander Aon said, welcome to the Lyceum.”

He stroked the rough stubble on his face as he paced in front of the kids. “I stood where you stand over three decades ago, in this very hall of the Valkyrie. I was eager, as I’m sure you brood are, to begin my studies. I can remember the day as if it were yesterday.”

“I see many weary faces here,” Hunt looked directly at Knees, who was nearly slumped against the wall. “You brood think you had it hard in the Trials? We didn’t have the Sim when I went in. It was as real as a kick to the nethers. I stood where you stand right now, with a fully shattered knee. Eviscerated by a Level Sixer with a love for taking the limbs of fresh Trial-takers. And you didn’t hear a peep out of me, so I don’t want to hear no griping about how the Sim gave you some headache now, all right?”

“As I was saying… many things have remained the same at the Lyceum for centuries. Here are two things that won’t be changing anytime soon. Number one. All students here stand on equal ground. I don’t care whose son or daughter you are or what you’ve done before you got here—all students stand in the same Circles. You work hard, you learn, you improve. That’s what matters here.”