The Combat Codes (24 page)

Murray thought back to their ride up on the Lift. The astonished look in Cego’s eyes when they emerged to the Surface. The kid’s expression everywhere they went, his wide eyes taking the new sights in. Murray had thought Cego was curious, eager to learn. But he’d been seeing everything for the first time.

“No. I understand. You didn’t know who you could trust. After Thaloo, and whatever else you’ve been though… I understand. You have nothing to be sorry for,” Murray said.

The kid had much ahead of him. Though the Trials were complete, Cego was at the very start of a long journey. He needed to focus on moving forward. He couldn’t be bogged down by this past… whatever its nature.

“Don’t worry about this stuff, kid,” Murray said reassuringly. “I’ll look into it. I’ll figure this out for you. You just need to focus on where you’re at. You passed the Trials. You’re one of a select few in Mercuri to enter the Lyceum now… training to become a Knight. You need to focus on your studies,” Murray said.

Cego nodded slowly.

“Thank you, Murray-Ku.”

10

The Harmony and the Valkyrie

When attempting to finish the triangle choke, a Grievar can easily tire. With a finish at hand, one risks extinguishing their ki by utilizing weak adductor muscles to attack the neck of an opponent squarely in front of them. One must instead find the proper angle prior to attempting the finish, perpendicular to the opponent, while utilizing the far stronger gluteal muscles to constrict the exposed
arteries.

Passage Four, Fifty-Third Technique of the Combat Codes

C
ego spent three
days in the medward. He mostly stared out the window, watching the rain. He tried not to think too much about the Trials or any of the confounding revelations that had come from them. It hurt his head too much to do so.

One of the clerics, a lithe girl with candleflame eyes and straight black hair, stopped by to check on Cego a few times per day. The girl never said anything; she only stared, her face awkwardly close to his at times. Cego could see the blood flowing beneath her translucent cheeks, traveling down her neck in narrow rivulets. Her breath was warm.

The girl examined him with cool indifference and took notes on the lightpad strapped to one of her wrists.

At first, Cego was amazed to see a small spectral hovering just over the girl’s shoulder. When the girl examined him, her little spectral would float across Cego’s body, as if it were observing the spots she was concentrating on.

Every so often, a senior cleric would stop by to check on the girl’s work—a man with a round bald head with thick veins running atop it. The man would review her lightpad and then ask the girl several questions that Cego didn’t understand.

“Base photosensitivity?” he asked.

“No movement,” she replied, in a blank voice.

“Spectroscopy levels?”

“No signs of differentiation.”

“Signs of neuropathic schizophrenia?”

“Rapid eye movement standardized during sleep; no emotive elevation during waking hours.”

On his fourth day at the medward, Cego made an attempt to speak with the cleric girl. After his experience in the simulation, he felt the need to reassure himself that the world he occupied was the real thing. He’d spoken with Murray earlier, but that was different. Murray was somehow a part of it all—the Citadel, the Lyceum, the Trials, the Sim. He needed to speak with someone that wasn’t a part of it. Whatever it was.

The girl came by in the morning as she had done the previous three days, her little crimson spectral in tow just over her shoulder.

“Does… Does he follow you everywhere you go?” Cego asked.

Though she didn’t stop examining him, she replied. Her voice was monotone.

“What makes you think it’s a
he
?” she asked.

“Hmm. I’m really not sure,” Cego responded. “He… er…
it
looked like a he to me.”

“Typical Grievar,” the girl said. “Always assigning emotional value to everything.”

Cego considered her words. “Well, you seem pretty happy with the spectral yourself. You keep checking to see if he… or
it’s
there.”

“You mistake my vigilance for what you call happiness, Grievar,” she said blandly. “I’m making sure my Observer is functioning properly.”

“Observer? Isn’t it a spectral?”

“Correct, it is a spectral. But more specifically it is an Observer, assigned to a neophyte such as myself for research aid. We clerics have further classified our spectrals based on function and intensity of light. In the medical science, classification and specification are integral,” she said.

Cego gave her a confused look.

“Ah, yes, I forget I’m speaking to a Grievar, where such knowledge is void. How can I term it properly for your limited understanding?” Though the words coming out of the girl’s mouth sounded insulting, she didn’t have a hint of malice in her eyes.

“Specification and classification are as important to clerics as… punching and kicking are for Grievar. Was that the proper analog to your own lightpath?” she asked with curiosity.

Cego chuckled. “Well, yes. Good enough. Don’t forget that we Grievar also specify, just in different ways. You might think of punching and kicking broadly, but we’re thinking about the details of the movement. Like a jab is a specific type of punch, and even within that classification, it can be broken down into more specifics—how to clench the fist properly, the twist of the feet, the hip movement, extending the arm fully and rotating the shoulder, pulling the second hand up for cover, snapping the fist back. Just for starters,” Cego explained.

The girl nodded. “I see. Perhaps I should reconsider my base description of your… fighting techniques. Though I still don’t see the need for such emotive assignment like your sexual classification of my Observer here,” she said.

Cego laughed—was that supposed to be a joke? He found her blunt manner of speaking refreshing. With a Grievar, he’d have to look between the words for meaning. Read a person’s eyes and body for emotion—whether it be anger, deception, or hostility. With this girl, it was all laid out in front of him.

“Agreed. It’s an it,” Cego said, watching the spectral’s red, flickering light. “How long have you had it?”

“My Observer has been with me for three months and five days now,” she replied.

“How does it know to follow you around like that?” Cego asked with genuine curiosity.

“Observers are programmed to follow every neophyte cleric at the start of their fellowship,” she stated.

“Fellowship?”

“This is the period where a cleric begins their live studies in a field of specialty. In my case, this field is Grievar orthopedic, muscular, and neurological reparation and rehabilitation.”

Cego again gave her a confused look.

“How shall I say it for you to understand? Let us see. I am studying here to… fix… Grievar, like you, who have returned physically or neurologically damaged from combat. In your case, we are studying the potential adverse neurological effects of your time in the simulation.”

“Have you fixed me yet?” Cego asked, half joking, though the girl took his question with a deathly seriousness.

“This medward at the Lyceum is one of the premiere facilities in Mercuri, if not on the planet. I am studying under high cleric Azeeth Despithi, who is often considered to be the brightest mind in the field of Grievar… fixing. If you have any neurological damage that is within our abilities to diagnose and repair, it shall be done,” she said with apparent pride, despite the lack of emotion in her voice.

Cego nodded. For some reason, he felt safe speaking his mind to this girl. “So, you’re here for the same reason I am. I’m here at the Lyceum to study under the best Grievar in the world. To perfect my combat skills and become a Knight. And you’re here to study under the best clerics in the world to perfect your healing skills.”

She brought her face awkwardly close to Cego’s again, her red eyes closely examining his golden irises. “Yes, I see the analog you are making, Grievar. I would agree; we are here for similar reasons, though certainly not the same.”

“Either way, it’s good to know someone else is in the same boat I am,” Cego said. “My name is Cego. Thank you for your help…”

For a moment, the girl appeared surprised at Cego’s gratitude, as if she’d never heard anything like it before. “It is my lightpath, not my choice, to help those such as you, Griev… Cego,” She said the name awkwardly. “Though your thanks is well taken,” she added.

“And your name is?” Cego asked.

“Xenalia,” she replied briskly as she turned away. “I hope I do not see you here at the medward again, Cego. Though I highly doubt that will be the case. Here in the Citadel, Grievar always seem to find a way to damage themselves…”

Xenalia walked away, her little spectral trailing behind her.

*

Today was the day of selection.

Murray met Cego first thing in the morning at the medward, located at the base of the Knight’s Tower. The two walked back across the yard back toward the Valkyrie, where the selection of the final twenty-four would take place. The rain had subsided momentarily and given way to a thick white fog that crept along the yard, clinging to the edges of the stone structures. Cego watched as spectrals emerged from the wells that surrounded the grounds and floated through the mists like one-eyed ghosts.

When they arrived, the Valkyrie’s wide rotunda was not nearly as crowded as it had been before the Trials. More than half of the kids from the commencement had been trimmed out, either because they had outright failed or because they were unable to attend the selection due to sustained neurological damage within the Sim.

There was a nervous energy within the room. Parents were boasting of their kids’ performances to each other as the Scouts in attendance were already chatting about what they’d do with the extra bit-purse they’d receive if one of their picks made it through.

Though Cego tried to separate himself from the buzz, he couldn’t help but feel a nervous tinge in his stomach. He was worried about Dozer and Knees. Or maybe he was worried about himself. Since he’d been reunited with his two friends, he had pictured attending the Lyceum with them. Cego couldn’t imagine entering alone, along with the group of purelights that would surely make it through.

Cego glanced around the room, looking for either of his friends. He saw the huge bulk of the boy from the outer rings, still escorted by two mercs. He caught sight of Shiar out of the corner of his eye, consorting with the same group of purelights he’d seen earlier during the Trial’s commencement. Solara Halberd was standing by herself several paces from the purelight pack. Cego couldn’t help but stare for a moment.

He noticed a big shadow by one of the pillars across the room. Cego told Murray he’d be back and walked toward the pillar. Broad shoulders swaying back and forth, a foot nervously drumming against the floor—it had to be Dozer.

Cego crept behind Dozer and slowly pushed his foot against the back of his friend’s knee, lowering the big Grievar to arm level, where he started to snake his wrist across Dozer’s thick neck. Dozer quickly grabbed Cego’s arm and swiveled around to face him.

Cego smiled and slapped his friend on the shoulder. “Nice choke defense!”

A wide smile creased Dozer’s face, and he pulled Cego in for his standard bear hug.

“Nice to see a familiar… well, familiar
and
friendly face round here,” Dozer said, looking wearily over at the exclusive group of purelights congregated in the center of the room.

“Knees?” Cego asked, though he was afraid to know the answer.

Dozer looked down at the floor, tapping his foot nervously. “I don’t know… I heard he had it pretty rough in the there. I asked about him and they said he was taken down to the medward in Central Mercuri—the Lyceum’s ward was full already.”

Cego felt his face flush. He’d been given preference over his friends again—getting a spot at the nearby medward, while Knees had to be taken outside of the Citadel into the dregs. He was probably getting treated along with all the cleaver addicts out there.

“He’ll make it here,” Cego said with determination. “He’s made it this far; he wouldn’t let anything stop him now.”

“I hope so,” Dozer said.

“How about you? Did you need any treatment afterward?” Cego asked, trying to get Dozer’s mind off of Knees.

The big Grievar smiled, showing his crooked yellow teeth, “Nope! Just been holed up in the Lyceum for three days now..”

“What? How’d you do it—did you know it was all a Sim beforehand?” Cego asked.

“Didn’t know anything,” Dozer said proudly. “I mean, I got beat up pretty bad in there, but now I feel fine. Someone tried to explain it to me… but I had a hard understandin’ em.”

Cego was astonished. Somehow, Dozer had emerged from the Trials unscathed. He couldn’t help but chuckle at his large friend’s complete lack of awareness, which in the end appeared to have saved him from any mental scarring. Dozer wasn’t thinking about what was real, his purpose here, or anything that deep. Dozer was… Dozer. Cego could learn something from him.

The two boys returned to Murray’s side.

Murray nodded at Dozer. “Glad to see you made it through, big guy.”

“Thanks, Mighty… er, sir… Murray.” Dozer fumbled with his attempts at formality.

Murray chuckled, a smile breaking across his face for the first time today. “Just Murray will do.”

“Murray,” Dozer said affirmatively.

The three stood quietly for several moments as the hall continued to fill up. It was almost time. Dozer stared at the entrance like a sad pup—still no Knees.

The room suddenly hushed as Commander Aon Farstead and several other Grievar stepped onto the balcony above. Murray whispered to the boys, “Those are the Lyceum’s professors—and the judges of the Trials.”

Commander Farstead pulled a long paper scroll from the podium and brushed his fingers across it, his milky white eyes flickering back and forth.

Cego glanced back at the entrance and saw a solitary figure slowly walking in. Knees.

He tapped Dozer on the shoulder to get his attention, and the big boy nearly jumped into the air in excitement. Their enthusiasm quickly waned when they saw the state Knees was in.

Though he didn’t appear to have any physical injuries—the Venturian boy might as well have been through a war. His face was deathly pale and huge circles ringed the bottoms of his eyes. He walked toward them slowly, tenderly, as if his body was injured. Knees lacked the mischievous glint in his eyes and the crooked smile that Cego had become accustomed to.

Dozer pulled Knees into a hefty hug that he gingerly accepted. The Venturian pulled up next to Cego. Cego grasped his wrist and nodded—silently saying that he understood what he’d been through. Knees nodded back at him blankly.

The three companions stood together, ready for the selection.

Aon Farstead’s whisper echoed off the tall chamber walls.

“Greetings, Trial-takers, families, and all Citadelians in attendance,” Aon said. “This year’s Trials have completed, and we have chosen our class of twenty-four.”