Cartlidge: Rise of the Imperfect Flame

by Devon Loos

  I stared hard at the arrangement of weapons before me, sighed, then picked up my usual assortment and walked into the arena. The room donned the appearance of a forest again, though the trees that I once used to my advantage now seemed to betray me. They hid a very dangerous foe. He was likely watching me, plotting my end. I scanned the trees for even the slightest inkling of movement. Nothing. A slight flash appeared to my right. Instinctively I aimed at it. Instantly the lights disappeared, and the room filled with darkness. A few cries of confusion and shock came from the crowd. A small panel landed on the ground, thrown from its place. A variety of wires and switches were exposed. Several small blue lights provided the only source of relief from the blackness, along with a single bulb connected to a torn wire. Walker chose to have a match at dusk so that he could sabotage the lights. Fear flooded me, and I spun around, searching frantically for a sign of my hidden foe. My heartbeat thundered into the darkness like a drum. Thump, thump. I wondered if he could hear it. I slowly, yet quietly, began to move forward. Thump, thump, CRACK! A small branch roared out into the silence as it bent downwards, releasing a several leaves. Immediately I fired several rounds upon the tree, hoping to hit my opponent. The branch twisted back into place and steadied. Silence returned.

  The match was not over. Thump, thump. I wondered how it was possible to move so silently. The branches creaked with the slightest of weight, while the floor was blanketed in fallen leaves and sticks. Why couldn’t I hear him?! Thump, thump. A realization struck me. I was too nervous. I was so unnerved by my opponent that my heartbeat and frantic breathing drowned out the slight noises I searched so desperately for. I stopped moving, closed my eyes, and began to slow my breathing. There was a slight hum. A buzzing of electricity. Small footsteps.

  My eyes shot open and I spun around just as Walker slashed downwards with a claw. The blow knocked my damaged rifle to the ground. He followed up with a kick which was delivered with surprising force. I landed on my back two meters away from where I had been standing. Brin was right. Walker was using weapons I had never seen before. He wore bands that wrapped around his upper arms, with wires that attached to his gauntlets, each with a small triangular guard for protection. The wires extended to the center of his gloves then separated, connecting to each of his fingers individually. A small, curved pin extended from the proximal part of each of his fingers and thumbs. Long blades of energy extended from the end of the pins. Surprisingly, the glow from each of the blades was almost nonexistent, allowing Walker to use his claws without detection. The warrior wore a mischievous smile, and casually walked over to where I sat, and extended his hand.

  “What?”

  “You’re too easy of a target.” His Gaia was surprisingly refined. “It wouldn’t be fun to finish you now.”

  Pausing, suspicious of his intent, I raised myself up slowly. He gave a nod, then turned toward the forest.

  “Let’s try that again, shall we?” He disappeared again. I drew my sword, calmed myself and searched the sounds of the room for Walker. Twitches from leaves and branches came from all sides, then the maddening silence returned. I focused on the most recent of the noises and waited, careful not to turn toward the noise and give away that I had identified where he was. The shadowy figure leapt from his hiding place and swung his right claw in my direction. I twisted my body violently and parried the attack. His left claw came in response. I only had the one blade to defend myself with. Driving the sword downwards, I deflected his second attack. His right arm returned, striking me in the left cheek with his palm. I spun away, but caught myself before I lost my balance. Focusing on Walker, I swung in attack. Walker steadied himself, waited for me to swing, then caught the blade between his own. He paused for a moment, a grin spread across his face, then he twisted his arms, slicing my sword in two. He reversed his arms back and sliced across my chest. I tumbled back several steps in shock. My suit appeared completely intact, but I felt several burns across my chest. In a real battle, the wound may have been substantial. My body did not lock up, so the wound was not considered a fatal one. Still, the pain was difficult to ignore. I looked up at my crazed opponent. He stood above me, arms raised, prepared to send a finishing blow. I had no weapon. Completely defenseless, I flinched as Walker began to swing forward then suddenly paused mid-strike, as if restraining himself. He took quick looks towards the crowd, clearly waiting for something. I was unarmed, yet they did not call off the match. I looked at my hands. Were they counting my powers as a weapon?

  Walker came to the same conclusion soon after, and continued his assault. I somehow dodged his attack, and focused my thoughts. How do I summon the strange power? Another swing, another sidestep. I had been tense, defenseless and filled with adrenaline every instance before. Swing. Duck, then backstep. I tensed my arm to see if the energy would spark. I could feel the energy around me, yet nothing happened. Swing. Dodge. I was forgetting something. Something that would ignite the energy for me. But, what? Another swing. I heard the shimmering sound of metal and energy slice through the air. A spark. I needed a catalyst. I raised my arm to block Walker’s next swing, hoping that I would not be dismembered. The sound of metal hitting metal rang out violently throughout the arena. Walker staggered backwards. I looked at my arm, now glowing with its purple aura, and grinned at the turn of events. Remembering my first fight, and how reaching for my legs caused the energy to jump to my arms. I brushed my arm against my leg. Instantly, the aura enveloped both my legs and my other arm. Fixing my fighting stance, I was now ready. Walker struck back, furiously. I blocked and countered with a similar ferocity and speed. We continued this cycle for several minutes, blocking most of each other’s blows yet still managing to sneak in an occasional strike. The crowd was ecstatic, cheering and crying out at our stalemate. My body wanted to give out. My legs had all but locked in place, yet I continued fighting. As I felt his right claw fly past my cheek, I swung upwards with my left and grabbed onto his arm. He reacted with a swing from his left. I swung as well, hoping to strike first. My body twisted into the punch. His strike missed, barely grazing my back, while my own swing made full contact with his ribs. The impact knocked him off his balance. This was my chance. I let go of his arm and delivered my best left hook. The blow struck his face, sending his body spiraling backwards. The force was too great for the simulation, and Walker fazed through several undamaged trees before finally crashing into the far arena wall. He stuck for a moment, then crashed to the ground like a large ragdoll. The room went deathly silent. Not even the commander spoke to verify that the match was over. The arena returned to its normal state, and several medical officers came in to carry off the broken Walker. Terror filled me. I wondered if I had killed him.

  [Chapter 6: Our Powers]

  Shortly after removing Walker from the arena, the medical officers came back to take me to the infirmary as well. I did not have any serious injuries, but the officers wanted to be sure. My body became numb with every other step so I allowed them to take me to the medical room. I spent the night there, thinking about what had transpired while they injected unknown chemicals into my legs. What would happen next? Was I to be punished? Banned from the warrior program? And what of Walker? Did I truly take another life because I lacked control? Eventually the questions forced me to ask. Much to my relief, however, Walker had survived.

  By the next morning I was allowed to visit. Walker had several tubes connected to his body, each pumping strangely colored fluids. The tubes connected to large machines, which were maintained by two doctors. Most of his body was held in place by restraints, though his head was given more freedom. The side of his face had a darkened bruise from my final blow in the arena.

  “Ah! Well if it isn’t the victor! Come to see your handiwork? Hey, if you ever find yourself in these things, don’t let them reset your jaw manually. It hurts like sevhevokilktev!” He laughed and then cursed himself for moving too much.

  “I’m really sorry sir, I-”

  “Don’t be sorry
, and don’t call me sir. I’m not a commander yet. You won fair and square, and as far as I can tell I’m not dead. There’s no reason to hold a grudge for that. Heck, I should thank you.”

  “Thank me?”

  “Yeah, thank you! I haven’t had that good of a fight since I was ten, and that was because it was three to one and I didn’t know how to fight yet.” He tried laughing again, though it quickly turned into a spastic cough.

  “Hey you need to get out of here or you’ll miss your first day of specialization training. You won’t pass without it.”

  “Wait, you mean.. I passed?”

  “Of course you passed! You won the fight didn’t you? Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to pass out.” Instantly Walker was asleep, much to the relief of the doctors. A sense of shock swept over me but I quickly recovered. I turned around and darted to the main theatre where we were supposed to gather. The main theatre was normally used for only three purposes. The first, today, was specialization day. We would be separated by our talents, physical attributes, and fighting styles into various groups for specific tasks in combat. Each squad had its own commander, support, and medical officer. It was also quite common for each group to have a pair of scouts for reconnaissance. Then there were much rarer classes who would join into the squad, sometimes taking control for their own assignments. A common example was the King or Queen, though control was only given if said warrior was of a fitting rank. The second time we would gather in the main theatre would be in preparation for our final test, and the final, more coveted, use was for graduation. Only half the people now gathered here would be able to reach that day this year. The commander made his way to the stage, then calmly waited for silence to fill the room. Finally he spoke. My Rovanekren was still in need of improvement, though I could understand the majority of his speech.

  “Congratulations, young bloods, on surmounting the first test of the month. I am sure you are all feeling rather proud of your accomplishments up to this point. Well, I am here to tell you that it would be best-” He paused, “- if you start praying to the angels, because the tests only get harder from here. In a few days you will all be put to the final test. Half of you will leave for the remainder of the year. Half of you will stay, no longer young bloods, but soldiers, clad in your shiny, new armor. While we sort you into your roles, pray that you are part of that latter half.” He traded spots with Brin, then walked off the stage.

  “Alright, I want operators in the left stands, intel officers in the right stands, and combat specialists in the center.” Immediately people began shuffling throughout the entire room. This first separation was not the final one, but it did help make the process run a little smoother. I stood awkwardly for a moment, trying to discern where the Kings would sit. In truth, a King or a Queen could potentially fit any role. I soon realized I was the last one standing and quickly found a spot in the center stands.

  “Now that everyone is settled, you will be moved into the separate meeting rooms where you will be examined by an instructor who will help you decide which spot is best for you. Oh! And don’t worry if you don’t find yourself where you thought you should have been. Not many people find their specialization before sorting day.” We were up again. This time we turned and exited the main theatre, then crossed the hall into our assigned meeting rooms. These rooms were much like large class rooms. There were stacks of tables and chairs that were moved to make space for the lines of young bloods in each room. From what I had heard, the process takes several hours, so many try to get as close to the front as possible. If you were caught cutting in line, however, you would be forced to move to the back. Slowly the lines moved forward. Despite the frustration, we all stood at attention, as if we were being tested on our discipline. Many believed that we really were. After an hour I found myself at the front of the line. An instructor sat impatiently at his desk, writing something down for the previous individual.

  “Name?”

  “Uh, Jacob Cartlidge.” I stuttered, nervously.

  “Hold on,” He pressed a few keys on his computer, then lit up slightly.

  “Ah, yes, the human with a King’s potential. I assume that’s the direction you want to go?”

  “Yes, sir”

  “Alright, give me a second.” He had surprisingly stopped speaking in Rovanekren and began speaking in Gaia instead.

  “Let’s see here, you are a normal-built human, you use the standard armament for your fighting style, king’s power, ummm, where’s the armor file…?”

  “My armor isn’t finished yet, sir.”

  “Ah! Well, yours has to be custom designed and built, so that’s understandable. Well, you’re lucky. Usually I would have to go through a lot more examinations than this.” He handed me a purple card with Rovanekren writing on it, followed by his signature. “Present this to an instructor tomorrow and he’ll show you the way.”

  “Thank you sir.” I turned and left, awkwardly averting my gaze as the other soldiers glared at me with envy.

  Though simple, Sorting Day was often much more stressful for those who weren’t sure where they belonged. Some warriors could fit in any class they wished, while others worked diligently just to be worthy of a single specialization. Some did not fit anywhere, and would be forced to remain a simple rifleman following graduation. The second day, however, was the real start of specialization training. We were awakened early and told to go to different rooms, depending on our specialization. Since mine was combat focused, I was told to go to the training room. After a few minutes of searching, I found an instructor. He pointed me to Brin who was the instructor for new Kings and Queens. There were only three of us: a woman named Gen, a singer named Alto, and myself.

  “Ok, so according to this…” He paused to read something on his handheld device. “Everyone is here. Welcome everyone to what is likely the hardest training course in the complex.” After introducing ourselves to each other, we moved to one of the holo-rooms.

  “Alright, everyone, I want you to take everything you know about energy and throw it out. We are not using our powers for fancy tricks, or for enjoyment, or even for pointless fights with your teammates.” He looked at each of us as if branding us guilty of one of these.

  “In the next nine days you will learn to summon the power entirely on will, sustain it, control it, and use it to fight.” He walked to control terminal for the room and spawned a single holographic figure. The hologram was not nearly as realistic, due to the small room and cheaper system.

  “Alright, show me what you can do.”

  “Sir, I thought you said to throw everything we knew out?” Gen protested

  “I did. But this is so that I’m sure that you know why.” There was a pause. It seemed like the others were having the same problem I was. We couldn’t simply start using our powers. After several awkward attempts we all gave up.

  “So you’re telling me you’ve all used your powers before?” We remained silent. He slowly walked over to Alto.

  “You’re a singer, right?”

  “Yes, sir. Born with it, sir. That’s how I know I have it, sir.”

  “Color?”

  He remained silent, confused.

  “Color, soldier!” Brin shouted.

  “Green, sir!” Alto finally answered. Brin walked over to Gen.

  “Color!”

  “Orange, sir!” She immediately answered. Brin turned and walked to me.

  “Color!” Energy filled me. I channeled it to my arm. I felt the warmth of the power travel down my arm to my fingertips, where it formed itself into a small ball of light. It wrapped around itself over, and over, vibrating rapidly, as if trying to escape. I straightened my fingers, and the ball flew outward, like a bullet. The orb smashed into the wall, just past the figure. I missed.

  “Purple… sir.” I said awkwardly. He turned away and waved for us to move. He then drew his sword and pointed it at the figure. His sword had two thin blades that were connected by a tube at the center. The ends of each
blade reached just past the narrow, tube. The hilt had a large, smooth gem embedded into it. The clear gem suddenly glowed bright red. The color flowed forward through the blades, just until exploding violently. A red ball of light darted forward, crashed into the figure, then exploded. The figure was gone. He then turned to us.

  “Alto, you lack the strength to sustain your power beyond singing. Gen, you lack the will to try, and Jacob, control. This is good though. Now we know what we need to work on.” We spent the rest of the day learning simple motions and techniques for sparking the energy ourselves. We learned that to create the energy, we needed to feel it around us. The energy is everywhere; in sound, light, heat, and even movement. Then we needed it to spark. This was the most difficult part. In order to spark the energy around us we needed to reach out of ourselves with our souls. We felt the energy swirling around us, and willed it to bend to our desire. This bending would ignite the energy, and like two magnets between a piece of film, the energy would be bound to our souls.

  The third day was spent learning about the energy itself. The colors represented the different spectrums of light. Each person used a different frequency. Red and purple were the strongest, but also the hardest to control. Potency decreased towards the center, while control became easier. There were also different levels of energy. The first was the color spectrum levels, and was the most common. The second was rare and difficult to master. In the second level, one’s color would mix with the others of the spectrum, creating a deathly white light. Few ever were able to transcend to the third level. The energy spectrum would then separate into all of its individual colors upon reaching this final level.

  The fourth day was spent understanding how to maintain the energy and why it is dangerous. Once power is sparked, the process of maintaining it is rather simple, though it requires a constant effort. If a king were to relax, the powers would immediately fade. Prolonged exposure to the energy, however, is incredibly dangerous. Since the power is bound to one’s soul, it consumes the life essence of that person, much like the wood of a fire. Eventually, the power can render one unconscious or even cause one’s organs to fail. Higher levels of energy are worse in this case, and few people actually live to tell about reaching the third level.