The Man Without Hands

by Eric Malikyte

  “Give up,” Dirkus said, standing with his hands clasped at his back. “This is your last chance.”

  The boy didn’t answer at first, as he seemed more focused on catching his own breath. His aura had quieted, his barrier gone.

  “I won’t,” Sage said.

  “Don’t do it!” Reysha shouted at him. “You’re at your goddamned limit already. If you keep pushing yourself, you could—”

  “He knows that, girl,” Dirkus said. “Yet his pride will not allow him to stop.”

  “No,” Sage said. “It’s not pride.”

  “Oh?” Dirkus said. “Then what is it?”

  Then, the boy’s Sulen seemed to waver. He gave a great shout, and it seemed to jump for a moment, and he charged forward. White-hot light surrounded his body—there was a horrible feeling in the air, like the oppressive agony spoken of by those who had gone too far into the Astral Lands and lived to tell about it—and Dirkus just stood there, waiting for whatever he was going to do.

  Sage thrust his palms forward and sent a great beam of raw, unfiltered Sulen at Dirkus.

  The idiot! There was no way his body was prepared to use a technique like that!

  The beam was unstable, it twisted and curved as it slammed into Dirkus’s body. Cracks formed in the elegant stonework at the Valier’s feet, but his barrier did not waver.

  “Impressive,” Dirkus said, before using his own barrier to bash the beam away from him, and slamming the boy in his gut.

  Sage fell to his knees. He was done.

  Reysha breathed a sigh of relief. She’d thought for certain he was going to incinerate himself.

  “Tell me, boy,” Dirkus said, “how did you learn to manipulate pure Sulen?”

  Sage couldn’t answer; he was too busy groaning and writhing on the floor. Dirkus kicked him over onto his back.

  “Not going to answer me?” Dirkus said, his dark eyes betraying the desire that the whole room could feel all too plainly in his Sulen. He wanted to kill the boy.

  “He can’t!” Reysha shouted, getting to her feet. “You beat the piss out of him!”

  Dirkus turned to Reysha, his expression unamused. “And that was his own choice.”

  “Well, he’s done now,” Reysha said. “You can fight me instead.”

  Dirkus’s hairless brow twitched at this. “You challenge me?”

  Reysha shook her head. “No. I assumed that we were all to face you. It’s my turn, right?”

  “He’s going to destroy you,” Kirana said. Her voice wasn’t full of mockery this time, but...fear, embarrassment?

  Reysha grinned, fighting through her own fear. “Maybe.”

  Dirkus kicked Sage across the room and his body skidded to a stop before Kirana.

  “Fine,” Dirkus said. “Have it your way.”

  Reysha cracked her knuckles and got into her Sulen Tukar stance. Her limbs were still sore from earlier. She probably wouldn’t last long. But she had to try. Sage had stood up for her, the least she could do was return the favor.

  “I’m going to give you a treat,” Dirkus said, spreading his arms wide. “I was holding back against the son of Kyrties, but since you showed such initiative, I’ll give you a glimpse at a technique you may one day learn yourself. If you don’t die in the Trials.”

  Dirkus stretched one hand behind himself; blinding white light sparked to life.

  Reysha readied herself.

  Ensure that you only channel enough Sulen for the task at hand, Padros had told their class long ago. If you overexert yourself, channel more than your body is trained to handle, you will not only hurt yourself, but you can, and probably will die.

  Reysha summoned her Sulen, felt sparks crackle around her fingers, and launched several arcs of lightning at Dirkus. She knew she wouldn’t be able to break his barrier, not attacking head-on, but he was using it as a protective sphere around himself, so if she could attack where it was weakest...

  Here goes, she thought, as the lightning bolts collided uselessly around Dirkus’s barrier. She thrust her palms at the floor, shattering the tiling to dust.

  Kirana screamed. “Those tiles are sacred! How dare you break them!”

  But Reysha was too involved. She suppressed her Sulen as far down as she could and charged forward. As long as Dirkus didn’t hit her with his full power while she...

  The dust did the trick, masking her movements, allowing her to get behind Dirkus’s back.

  He was still looking for her in the cloud of dust. It was now or never.

  She rushed forward and summoned her full strength at the last moment, thrusting her arms forward and shooting a wall of flames at Valier’s barrier.

  Laughter echoed through the chamber.

  Dirkus turned around to face her. His barrier didn’t budge.

  “That was a risk,” Dirkus said. “If I had hit you while you thought you were concealed by the dust, you’d be dead right now.”

  Part of her wanted to give up. Her flames ceased.

  “Damn it,” Reysha said, gazing upon Sage’s unconscious body, lying before Kirana.

  He didn’t, she thought.

  Dirkus strolled up to her. “You know what comes next?”

  She attempted to blast his face; and then he thrust out the palm he’d kept chambered that entire time, hitting her with a blinding wall of light that rattled her skull and made her taste blood.

  The next thing she knew, her barrier was broken, and she was lying on the floor, droplets of her blood soaking into Kirana’s precious stonework. It felt like he’d lit her muscles on fire, because she couldn’t move.

  She didn’t even know what the hell he’d hit her with. She felt like she’d pass out from the pain at any moment.

  “You’re finished,” Dirkus said, strolling away from her with his hands clasped behind his back again.

  Bastard, she thought.

  And then the blackness fell in from the walls of her vision, and she accepted its embrace...at least now she’d be able to rest.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SAGE

  Sage had lost count how long it had been since the bells had tolled throughout the city, marking the rising of the second moon. A thing which few of his people were allowed to see. Most of the city would be slumbering. Perhaps even Commander Kiel would be sleeping in his tower.

  As for himself... He’d found it impossible to sleep.

  The Olloketh crystals continued to glow, making darkness impossible. Normally, he’d be able to sleep...

  But he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened in the Hall of Trials today. How Dirkus had beaten him so...easily.

  He’d awakened later in the Temple of Ara’ka, with one of the healers laying hands on him. They had seemed startled, fearful even. Probably never expected to see someone so young in their assigned chambers.

  Shortly after that, the healer had left, and Sage was allowed to go home. His body and stamina had been restored...but everything else still hurt.

  They’re not going to let me participate, Sage thought. I should just forget it.

  He tried rolling over and covering his head with his pillow; but that didn’t help either. And who knew what nightmares might await him if he allowed himself to sleep?

  I dedicate this vessel in the name of Oreseth!

  Sage sat up, staring at the curtains that marked the entrance to his room. His grandparents’ Sulen had faded to nearly nothing. His eyes drifted to the floorboards where he kept Suleniar.

  Dinner had been tense. Gramps had glared at him the whole time, even through his stupid devotional mantras.

  “May we stay ever vigilant in service to our High Elder’s cause,” his grandfather had said. “May we be ready to set down our tools and lay our lives on the line when the Shar come. May we have the strength to accept Malo’thul’s embrace so that our race may yet live.”

  Sage had left the table as soon as he’d finished eating, electing to lie in bed and stare at the patters on the ceiling made by the dim blue light f
rom the Olloketh crystals.

  “This behavior from you is going to see us all exiled,” his grandfather had said. “It stops now. I want you to repeat the devotional mantras thirty times before bed tonight, and don’t think that I won’t be listening.

  “Great High Elder Geidra was generous enough to let you go with punishment, but don’t you go thinking that you’ve gotten off easy. Don’t make me regret bringing you into our home. After all I’ve done for you.”

  He wanted nothing more than to leave for the surface, to run through snow-covered hills, to leap from great trees taller than any tower, and to breathe the fresh crisp air that the Masku enjoyed.

  I can’t go to the surface again, Sage thought. Tanar will just have to wonder where I am...

  that’s what he told himself, even as he found himself kneeling before the floorboards, lifting them up one by one, until the four crimson stones that marked Suleniar’s black and white two-handed hilt lit up in response to his Sulen. His right hand found its grip and he could feel the amplifier blade’s effects on him, his power surging in response.

  If Kiel was awake right now, he’d be able to sense that surge...

  It was too risky, wasn’t it?

  I don’t want to be exiled, he thought.

  Then, as he stared at the blade, he couldn’t help but smile.

  I just won’t get caught, then.

  Amplifier blades had some interesting properties. He’d asked Wren why they were outlawed and she’d gone on to give him a whole list of reasons, but the thing that interested him the most about them was the idea that a user of an amplifier blade could imbue their Sulen into the blade, giving the blade the ability to act as a beacon of the user’s Sulen. If the Sulekiel was skilled in suppressing their Sulen—something Sage practiced every chance he got—and they left their amplifier behind, it would seem like they hadn’t left at all.

  Which meant that as long as he returned before first moon, he should be fine. He’d only be gone less than eight hours.

  He stood up and focused on his sword hand, allowing his Sulen to flow into the blade; it lit up with a radiant glow of light, brightening the entire room.

  When he was satisfied, he grabbed one of his shirts from the closet and wrapped the blade up in it, covering the glow , and put the sword back in its resting spot and replaced the floorboards. Then he tiptoed his way into the living room and snuck out the front door.

  2

  The city was quiet. Sage made sure to keep off the main paths. This was far more challenging while the Olloketh crystals were glowing, but there were plenty of paths still shrouded in shadow, and one in particular that led right up to the river.

  He used to bypass the main gate when the guards changed shift. There was a locking mechanism next to a trapdoor used for maintenance that was easily forced open with a light wave of Sulen. Then he’d be able to crawl on through to the other side. He wouldn’t be able to do it that way anymore. Not with Kiel growing suspicious.

  Mist coated his face, the smell of sediment and fresh snow rushing in from the surface filled the air, and the roar of the river came to dwarf everything else around him.

  He stood up and took a deep breath.

  Here goes, he thought, and dove into the current—

  Shit! The freezing temperatures clawed into his bones through his cloak. He didn’t think it’d be so damned cold. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.

  Once he was downstream and he could take the freezing temperatures no longer, he closed his eyes and reached deep inside himself. He pictured the energy in his center radiating out in a great circle to encompass his body; the temperature around him increased to a comfortable level.

  Hopefully Kiel won’t sense that, Sage thought.

  He allowed his head to pop up above the surface for a moment to see that he was nearly clear of the city. This wasn’t his usual path, but the river was the only thing that was allowed to pass unheeded through either of the gates. Exhaling a stream of bubbles into the river, he let his body sink beneath the supports for the secondary gate to Yce Ralakar and drifted out till darkness became a brilliant golden shimmer in ice-blue waters.

  He came up gasping for air, into the light of the sun and the great red disk of Aula’kar hanging above the snowcapped peaks above.

  All right, Sage thought. I should be far enough away to use my Sulen.

  He dropped back beneath the surface of the current and let his Sulen pool into his arms until he felt the energy stinging and crackling around them like lightning bolts; angling himself toward the bottom of the river, he grinned, and let the blast shoot out from his hands.

  It exploded into the bed of the river, white light flashing through the water, and a massive wave of force bounced back off the river bottom and slammed into his body, sending him flying out of the water and five feet into the air.

  Sage allowed himself to come down and crash into the soft snow. Lying there, he belted laughter through the trees, startling the birds from their nests.

  If only Kiel knew, he thought.

  3

  The town of Eldulor was built atop of the ruins of a Sulekiel city whose name was all that hadn’t been lost to the ravages of time. Where the Masku erected their crude, square, wooden buildings, Sage could still see hints of the old city: there were crushed pillars, statues that had had their faces smashed in, outlines and foundations of great sprawling buildings. The rubble was everywhere and stretched for several miles.

  Sage perched a hundred feet up on a thick branch at the edge of the forest, his fist clutching his cloak to keep it from catching on swaying branches. Leaves brushed against his body like feathers on giant wings. The smell of leaves and undergrowth filled his lungs. There was no ever-present dampness here, no permeating smell of sediment.

  It was invigorating!

  He’d kept to the trees for most of the journey, so as not to bring any attention to himself. The Masku were quick to judge those who weren’t their own, but there were still some of them who were curious about the unknown.

  Edging his weight forward, he spread his arms and allowed himself to fall feet-first to the earth—kicking up dust when he landed. He drew up his hood and strolled toward the outskirts of the town.

  The wind was cool, brisk, and, best of all, dry.

  Sage looked to the sky. The second moon was at the halfway point in its journey through the sky, passing in front of the great crimson disk that adorned the sky at all hours of the long days and the long nights. His people called it Aula’kar, so named after a great Sulekiel warrior (it was always some kind of warrior, wasn’t it? Why didn’t healers ever get their due?) with crimson hair and eyes like blood, who had died defending the last city against the Shar.

  At least, that’s how the myth went.

  His people believed Aula’kar was a world, but one much larger than the one they inhabited.

  He quickened his pace; his friend was more than likely waiting for him already.

  4

  The boy was standing by their usual meeting place, crouched beneath the shadow of the last remaining Sulekiel statue, drawing things in the dirt with a stick. His name was Tanar, or maybe Tannar? Sage wasn’t sure how to pronounce it.

  Originally, he’d had to sneak into the town and go to the boy’s window to get his attention. That was before Tanar had given Sage a calendar, one that looked surprisingly similar to the one his people used. Each long day was divided into second moons, which the Masku called days, and the same was true for long nights. Long days and long nights usually took fourteen “days” to complete; they would meet in the middle, on the seventh day of each. So far, Sage hadn’t missed a meeting.

  He had a feeling that might change soon.

  Tanar gave Sage a nod and waved him on over to rest by the statue, saying something in his native language. Sage was beginning to understand some of the words, but it still sounded mostly like a jumbled mess.

  He took a seat in front of Tanar, but kept his hood drawn ove
r his face to hide his dark blue hair from prying eyes. His skin might give him away still, but they were far enough away from town that it would be hard for anyone to tell for certain.

  “Let’s begin,” Sage said, in the Sulekiel tongue.

  Tanar offered him his stick with a curious, eager grin.

  Sage drew several Sulekiel hieroglyphs in the dirt. He waited a few moments to let Tanar soak in the sight of them, to remember what he’d taught him over the last several months.

  Tanar looked at them for a few moments, and pointed to the symbols individually and spoke their meaning in succession. Besides messing up the pronunciation, he had done well. If they kept this up for another month or two, they might even be able to understand each other.

  It was Tanar’s turn next; he drew some of his symbols in the dirt, what he liked to point at and call “leddurs.” There were twenty-six of them in total, and, despite being simple, they all looked equally strange, yet somehow elegant.

  Sage attempted to mouth each sound that the leddurs were supposed to represent and managed to get about half of them right.

  Tanar moved on to writing down things he called “werds.” Sage spoke aloud, trying to match them to their Sulekiel counterparts.

  Tanar seemed pleased, so he must have done well.

  They traded the role of teacher and student back and forth for the better part of two hours. By that time the sun’s brilliant orange disk was just above the horizon, casting a crescent of light across the right side of Aula’kar’s disk and the second moon. The sky was clear enough today that he could see great craters that marked the face of the second moon.

  As he understood it, Tanar’s people believed the cycle of night and day sometimes took the course of what they called “weeks,” and they called the bright orange disk of Zhelon “the false sun,” something his Elders would doubtless balk at if they heard it.

  Tanar passed the stick back to Sage.

  The Sulekiel measured the passing of the moons across Aula’kar’s face first and the coming of the darkness second, to record the passage of time. Darkness was a time of deep reflection, a time to fear the return of Malo’thul; but the Masku swore of a time when days were short, and when there was only one moon in the sky. Surely that was the stuff of myth.