The Man Without Hands

by Eric Malikyte

  “Come on,” Sage said, walking forward. “The doors are opening.”

  Reysha nodded. “Wait up.”

  2

  The doors opened and the remaining twenty participants in the Trials stepped inside. Some were in awe of what they saw. The false Masku street stretched on for about a mile, complete with burning lanterns and a vision of Aula’kar made from torches and red-tinted glass high above the testing grounds, bathing everything in crimson light. Each building had something different to offer, different signs with strange words on them, and as the street progressed, the buildings got larger.

  Stone statues were scattered throughout the streets, and many were hidden in the facades of those buildings and towers. Most of the participants would probably try to target the most obvious ones.

  Was this how the outside world looked? When she’d seen the chamber before, it hadn’t looked this majestic.

  “The stealth trial,” High Elder Geidra’s voice boomed through the cavernous chamber. “Those of you who managed to conquer the crusher find yourself before a representation of a Masku street, filled with sights and architecture that you will experience if you become Valier.

  “Each stone statue is holding between one and five bells. Your job is to suppress your Sulen and move through the city, removing bells from these statues without making a sound before the time limit on the hourglass is up.

  “My Valier will assist in judging this time—” Geidra gestured to a dozen Valier who rose from their seats and leapt off the dividing wall, down to the cavern where the students waited to begin the trial. The Valier positioned themselves throughout the false city street, standing on rooftops, behind buildings, and hiding in the shadows.

  “If you make so much as a whimper,” Geidra said, “they will know. If a Valier senses your Sulen, if they hear you, or if you arrive at the goal without at least twenty bells, you fail. Set the hourglass and begin.”

  Commander Kiel rose from his seat and approached the edge of the ledge bordering the seating area, where an hourglass the size of his forearm rested. He turned it over and looked out at the remaining students.

  “Begin!” Commander Kiel shouted, his voice thundering through the cavern.

  Everyone scattered like insects exposed to light, fading into the street, disappearing into buildings, or leaping to the rooftops.

  Reysha suppressed her Sulen and darted into one of the building facades.

  The interior was lit by candles, revealing crude wooden tables, chairs, and strange, metallic items. She moved cautiously around the environment, controlling her breathing and muscle movements to make as little sound as possible. There was a statue standing with its back to her.

  No sound, she thought, creeping through what looked like the Masku equivalent of a kitchen. Her eyes swept over plates and dishes and stopped on a set of knives set on a wire rack above what looked like a dishwashing station with a well spout for water hanging over it.

  She removed a few of the knives and placed them in her belt, thinking that they might come in handy later.

  Then she assessed the statue.

  It was clothed like a Masku. And she could see the gleam of one of the bells hanging from its front coat pocket.

  She approached it from behind, and swept her hand down in a wide arc, silently scooping the bell from the statue and staring at it. But how would she keep the bells quiet in her pocket? Glancing around the chamber, she saw pots and pans and a jar filled with a kind of paste.

  She unscrewed the cap, lathered the inside of the bell with the stuff, and stuffed both the jar and the bell quietly into her pocket.

  If the statue contained more bells, it might be a risk to try to search it. That could make unnecessary noise and get her disqualified. And she would not fail this challenge.

  She found a staircase and moved to the next floor, coming face-to-face with a Sulekiel with red hair and ashen skin. The silence between them was deafening. She could hear her heart beating in her ears. He glared at her and darted into one of the three rooms available.

  Reysha regulated her breath, controlling each and every muscle in her feet as she took to exploring the other two rooms, finding smaller statues, probably representations of Masku children, and picking two more bells off of them, until she came to the room the other Sulekiel had entered. There was another statue here, and an open window.

  The redheaded Sulekiel was gone; he hadn’t made a sound.

  Reysha followed after them, climbing out the window and scaling the rooftop.

  “Failure!” shouted one of the Valier from across the street.

  Panic seized Reysha’s throat, dragging her attention to the Valier’s burning crimson eyes. But his gaze was not cast on her.

  Relief filled her, and her eyes drifted to where he was looking.

  His gaze fell on a Sulekiel she didn’t know. A boy, from what she could tell.

  “What is the reason for his failure?” High Elder Geidra’s voice boomed from her seat.

  “He has failed to remain silent,” the Valier said.

  “Then let him be cast from this chamber,” Geidra said, “with the rest of his fellow failures.”

  The boy hung his head low as he left the false Masku street, clutching the bells that had most likely caused his defeat.

  Reysha looked to the street. She would have to take extra care not to end up like that boy; best to stick to the buildings and rooftops. Since it was all made of stone, it’d be easier to control her steps. She leapt to the next building, allowing herself to fall softly into a roll and slipped inside through one of the windows.

  There she found another statue, lying in a Masku bed. Its bells had already been picked clean, so she moved on to the next building, finding a similar situation in each room.

  She was nearing the beginning of the towers, and only had three bells to her name. If she reached that goal without the minimum of twenty...

  If she couldn’t remove bells from statues, maybe she’d be able to find someone to liberate them from instead.

  Her fists tightened. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea.

  She caught a glimpse of a silhouette leaping from a rooftop to one of the tower facades across the empty street and gave chase, silently falling into an alleyway and making her way across the street, dipping into the building the silhouette had just leapt from and finding her way to the roof.

  Once she was there, she scanned the tower.

  And sure enough...

  There, scaling the outside of one of the stone towers near the end of the trial chamber, was the familiar mark of Kirana’s long, flowing silver hair.

  A grin tore its way across her face.

  There was a wooden ladder on the tower across a small stone bridge not far from where she was. Kirana must have taken it.

  Reysha ran across the bridge and up the wall, silently slipping her palms over the first rung and scalingthe ladder. Once she was at one of the empty window holes in the tower, she climbed inside and crept from room to room, keeping Kirana’s position fresh in her mind.

  She came to a large corridor, facing a balcony. Outside the windows along the dark corridor was Kirana, her silver hair lit by the false Aula’kar.

  The fool was crouched on the outside balcony. Probably looking for a safe and quiet path to the goal, which probably meant she’d found enough bells to pass.

  Too bad for her.

  Reysha found herself climbing out of the window directly behind Kirana, onto the balcony, and sneaking up to her.

  One of the best things about this challenge was the fact that a Sulekiel who suppresses their Sulen to the extent that they had all been forced to was vulnerable, weak like a Masku baby.

  Reysha got right up behind Kirana, could smell the sweat and the stink of gas on her tunic when she pressed her hand over the girl’s mouth, wrapping her other arm around her throat. Kirana struggled, doing her damndest to remain completely silent, reaching and grabbing.

  She had to knock her out. No
w.

  Reysha reached for the knives on her belt, and struck Kirana’s temple as hard as she could without using Sulen.

  Kirana went limp in her arms and Reysha dragged her off silently, depositing her body on a stone representation of a bed.

  I told you, Reysha thought, you didn’t stand a chance.

  Kirana had twenty bells in her pockets; Reysha quietly liberated all of them and left her on the balcony, leaping to the next roof and heading for the goal marker.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  SAGE

  Sage ascended the final stone staircase, rising high above the torchlight of the false city. The goal marker was an arch held up by two statues of Valier. He passed under the arch and breathed a sigh of relief.

  His excursions to the surface world had uniquely prepared him for this challenge. When Kiel had shouted to begin, he’d lost himself in the rush of adrenaline as he’d made his way through the middle of the street, silently swiping bells from statues and stealing his way through buildings and towers.

  It had been eerie, experiencing a Masku city street through the eyes of Sulekiel craftsmen and sculptors. He’d felt like a phantom moving through those chambers, peering on stone representations of Masku in various poses and positions, some lying in bed, stoking fires in their living rooms, and praying to idol representations of their gods.

  He’d heard several Sulekiel get called out for making noise or for using Sulen. They had been failed instantly.

  Looking around, it appeared that he was the first to make it through the false city. He wondered how many of his brethren would be moving on to the fourth trial.

  Not many, he thought. There had been four hundred or more when they’d started the first trial.

  And now?

  Was this really the best way to determine who was and wasn’t suited to the life of a Valier?

  To his surprise, there was a Valier at the marker he hadn’t seen. He had Vyce’s amethyst skin and golden hair.

  “Present your bells,” the Valier said, extending his palm.

  Sage retrieved his pouch and handed it over. The Valier sifted through them and nodded. “You pass.”

  “Thank you,” Sage said.

  The Valier nodded, his expression like stone.

  “Are you Vyce’s father?” Sage asked quietly.

  He nodded. “Yes, Son of Kyrties.”

  “What’s your name?” Sage asked.

  “I am called Padros.” The Valier crossed his arms. “Now be silent, I must focus.”

  Sage nodded, turning and watching for who would come to the goal marker next.

  Next came Takarus. His golden gaze met Sage’s own.

  He looked tired. Like he’d given the tests his all, despite how everyone kept telling him he was unworthy.

  Sage could relate. He had to resist the urge to speak up... He wanted to congratulate Takarus on making it this far. No one else was likely going to do it.

  It wore on him that he was unable to speak to the first friend he’d ever had. He’d always known that Takarus would bow to his father’s demands if it came down to it. A thousand times, he’d wanted to tell his friend about the amazing things he’d seen on the surface...

  He’d signed the contract though. And if he violated it, Geidra wouldn’t hesitate to have him thrown in a prison cell, or worse. Maybe this silence had always been inevitable. It was like they were from completely different worlds.

  He tried telling himself that it would all work out, that he’d be able to make a difference as a Valier. That his friends were better off like this.

  Padros extended his hand and asked him to present his bells. Takarus did as he was commanded.

  “Twenty one,” Padros said. “You pass. Congratulations.”

  Takarus bowed to Padros and stood on the other side of the goal marker. Far away from Sage.

  Sage’s hands clenched into fists.

  Reysha came next, having collected twenty-three bells. She fell in next to him. Her citrine skin seemed to glow in the red light coming from the false representation of Aula’kar. She smelled of sweat and fumes and something else that made that strange feeling return to his gut.

  He stared into her golden eyes; her lips parted into a luscious smile.

  He gave her a nod. She seemed to understand, nodding back to him.

  Maybe, if he could see her, being a Valier wouldn’t be so bad.

  Vyce was next. He presented forty bells to his father without prompt.

  “I bet you barely scraped by,” Vyce said, falling in behind Sage.

  “I only collected as many as I needed to pass,” Sage said quietly.

  “Always doing the bare minimum,” Vyce said. “Well you better be prepared for what happens next. Cause if I get matched up against you, I’m not holding back. They say last time one of the participants died in the fourth trial. Guess they’re going to have to bury you tonight. Maybe they’ll send your corpse out to sea to join your father’s!”

  Sage did not respond.

  His Sulen felt like it was going to explode. Part of him wanted to meet Vyce in the first match of the next challenge. Part of him wanted to humiliate him, tossing him from the ring like the worthless fool that he was.

  Part of him wanted to kill the bastard.

  “What’s the matter?” Vyce said. “You didn’t think you were going to get out of this alive, did you? This was just a ploy to get you into a scenario where one of us could take you out.”

  “Silence,” Padros said. “The trial is still ongoing. Any more chatter, and I will fail you both.”

  Sage nodded and kept his mouth shut for the remainder of the trial.

  Vyce scowled and crossed his arms.

  Daos came next, followed by the frail-looking boy and the short girl with silver skin he’d seen in High Elder Geidra’s tower. Where was the big one?

  Next, a boy with skin like garnet and opal hair.

  That made eight.

  His eyes scanned the false street, the towers, the buildings. There was no sign of Kirana.

  He wondered if she would fail.

  Part of him was disappointed that he wouldn’t get to the chance to fight her.

  Four more Sulekiel arrived, and two of them promptly failed from not having enough bells. One among the two who passed was the big guy he’d seen with the other two in Geidra’s tower. The other, a girl as short as Dirkus. That left eight still out in the street, scrounging for bells.

  “Time is over!” High Elder Geidra’s voice boomed through the cavern once more. “All those still searching for bells have hereby failed this trial.”

  At that, there was a great scream, and the false street at the bottom of the steps filled with rage and fire.

  “Reysha cheated!” Kirana came storming up the staircase, flames boiling off her body, thrusting her index finger at Reysha. “She snuck up behind me and robbed me of my bells!”

  Reysha crossed her arms and grinned. “I’m sorry, princess. I saw an opening, and I took it.”

  Padros stepped forward, raising his palm to Kirana. “You have failed this test. You must vacate the trial chamber immediately. You are unworthy.”

  “It’s not fair!” Kirana shouted, stomping her feet on the stone steps. “It should be me standing there! It’s my destiny!”

  “Clearly, it isn’t.” Padros’ palm crackled with pure Sulen. “Vacate the chamber, or I will force you to.”

  Kirana’s eyes widened; she stumbled backward; her aura faded as a deep and potent despair filled the air around her. “But...”

  “It’s over,” Padros said. “Please do not make me attack the daughter of Commander Kiel.”

  She sulked, descending the steps. Then she stopped for a moment, turning back to her brother. “You’ll avenge me...right?”

  Takarus didn’t answer right away. It seemed like he hesitated. He nodded.

  Kirana got to the bottom of the staircase and was about to disappear into the false city in defeat when she turned back to them. Even
from this distance, Sage could see the tears flowing down her cheeks, and he could feel the mounting pain weighing her heart down.

  No doubt, Kirana had thought that her station as Kiel’s daughter would get her a free pass if she only spoke up. Part of him was glad she was learning this lesson. After all her bellowing about how the unworthy should be made to serve the Valier that protect the city, facing life as a miner, or a cleaner of bathing pools, or something else, would do her good.

  Kirana vanished into the false city, and her Sulen faded.

  Padros turned around and produced a key.

  He approached the far wall behind the goal marker’s arch. His aura brightened as he inserted the key and two slabs of solid rock started grinding away from each other, falling back into crevices in the wall and revealing the final trial chamber.

  The chamber was lit by great orbs that pulsed with eerie white light around a circular ring made of stone. In the center of that ring was the symbol of the Sulekiel people. To an untrained eye, it just looked like a sword stabbing down through a fancy-looking Sulekiel S hieroglyph. Sage had certainly said so on more than one occasion, but Wren had been quick to correct him.

  “That blade is far more significant,” she’d said. “It is the celestial blade from the heavens that pierces the heart of the sigil of Sulen. It is a symbol of our struggle. We are the blade, struggling against the will of Malo’thul’s indomitable spirit.”

  “Follow me, your next challenge awaits,” Padros said.

  “Wait a sec,” Reysha said to him.

  Sage nodded as everyone besides the two of them followed Padros.

  Once they were gone, she spoke. “I’m going to speak frankly.”

  “I’m sorry?” Sage said.

  “I want to wish you luck,” Reysha said, staring into the chamber inside. “We’re probably going to have to fight each other.”

  “Yeah,” Sage said.

  “I know how strong you are.” She smiled; their eyes met in the dark. “I’d like to think that we’re dead even, but my father always said never to underestimate an opponent.”