He saved all those people. But I was selfish and angry, and I’m still a little confused. Had he lived, I may have never known his true feelings, and maybe I could have stifled my own. But since he died, I did know, and I would never be able to return or refuse his feelings. It took me a long time to be able to think of him and of that situation completely objectively. I miss him. I wish things had been different. I wish we had had more time.
“But, to be honest,” she said with a sigh, “I hadn’t thought of him in a long time. Even when you brought him here,” she said, indicating Jav down on the sparring block. “Giving him the same name was a thoughtless impulse guided by nothing more than simple familiarity with the name. He had nothing identifiably in common with Corso at the beginning, except maybe his politeness. But over the last three years, he’s changed, or maybe I’ve just come to see what was there all along. Regardless of which, every day he reminds me a little more of Jav Corso.” She was smiling sadly now. “And that is a very good thing.
“Do you believe in soul echoes, Mr. Kalkin? I never had reason to, never met one myself that I could confirm. But watching that man down there. . . I wonder.”
Kalkin looked on at Hol’s profile in silence for a time then turned his gaze down to the practice area. He had also attempted to investigate Jav’s true identity and had also come up with nothing more than rumors, which no one could or would confirm. He had his suspicions, but even if those proved to be true, it meant little. Whoever he was, wherever he was from, the man down below would do great things for the Empire. Kalkin had had some vague and persistent notion of this since their very first encounter, but though the two Javs were really unrelated, Hol’s story dispelled any remaining uncertainties about Jav Holson’s future.
10686.050
Their scheduled jump ship arrived and brought Jav, Mei, Hol, and Kalkin almost instantly to Planet 1398. The dim red sky was darker than Jav remembered, but that was to be expected as the sun’s faltering radiation was being hungrily consumed by the exposed surface of the Vine. In another two years, in time for the final competition, this sun would be almost completely gone and an artificial replacement would be necessary.
The four walked down the winding steps from one of the many jump decks that dotted the top of the Root Palace’s encircling wall and into the vast courtyard, receiving instructions and directions from awaiting personnel.
The staging area consisted of two clusters of four sizable square rings each, designated as Block One and Block Two. Between the Blocks, suspended thirty meters above the ground, was a giant screen with either side displaying all information relevant to the block that it faced. Since Jav and Mei would be competing in different blocks, they separated—Jav with Kalkin and Mei with Hol.
“I’ll try to get over here for your fights, too, Jav,” Hol said. “But just in case I can’t, everything is being recorded so we’ll be able to go over good points and mistakes later. Just don’t lose,” she said, emphasizing each word. “Okay?”
“Yes, Teacher. Good luck, Mei.”
Mei graced Jav with an obligatory look and a non-committal grunt.
Hol sighed and went with Mei on to Block One.
Kalkin took Jav as far as Block Two then stopped. “This is as far as I go, Jav. They’ve got me sitting over there,” he said, pointing. “You have nothing to worry about. I know you’re going to do great.”
“Thanks.”
Kalkin made off for his seat and Jav moved into Block Two. Eight fighters were assigned to each ring, and finding his, Ring Five, he met some of his fellow competitors. Most notable among them was a literal giant, a woman standing almost three meters tall with a powerful frame and great masses of bushy, black hair. She was not unattractive, but her initial glower and subsequent wolfish, tooth-filled leer made Jav wonder if she might have been more animal than human.
She slapped Jav on the shoulder giving his body a noticeable shake. “Welcome,” she said in a hearty, pleasant voice. “Name’s Karza, Olander Karza.” Her face was small and really almost childlike, peeking out through her thick growth of hair. She wore trunks of something like denim and an animal skin shirt lined with black fur.
“Jav Holson,” he said, extending his hand.
At his offer, any and all resemblance to anything animal disappeared completely. Eyes bright, she beamed pleasure and took his diminutive hand in both of hers. She looked up at the screen and made a noise of respectful surprise. “Eighteen Heavenly Claws, huh? You’re one of Laedra Hol’s students. I guess I should be more careful with those hands.”
Jav laughed. “You’re safe. At least for now.” Jav, too, glanced up at the information board now. “Karza. . . There you are. What’s a Chain Guillotine?”
She reached behind her and produced a loop of heavy chain fixed to a great chunk of steel a half-meter long and wide. That chunk of steel—the blade—was almost ten centimeters thick at the top and tapered down to a wicked, gleaming edge. Gripping the chain, she let the blade drop and sink into the hard ground where its weight alone crumbled stone.
“You throw that thing?”
She shook her head, grinning with satisfaction and leaned in as if imparting a secret. “It dances for me.”
“What a ridiculous image,” another voice cut in from behind Jav.
Jav turned and saw a man with a tangle of red hair who was about his size. In his hand was a long-handled sword, sometimes called a pole sword, the blade of which reached over his head. He stepped forward and continued unaddressed, “If you ask me, women have no place here.”
Karza snatched the blade of her weapon into one hand with the snap of her wrist. “Nobody asked you,” she growled.
Jav looked around and confirmed what he had noticed earlier, that at least a third of the participants were women, then he looked the other man in the eye. “Are you perfectly clear on where you are right now?”
“Oh, come on,” the redheaded man said. “They have their place, don’t get me wrong. It’s just not here. I’m perfectly aware of where I am, so you, Miss,” he said to Karza, “will have to wait until we get into the ring—if fate so decrees. And in that case, you will appreciate the fact that I will be lenient, leaving you with no permanent scars. But you will lose, I assure you.
“By the way,” he said to Jav now, “aren’t you the one who trained under a woman? And only with women? I don’t hold much hope for you either, my friend.”
Jav stared at him coldly for a moment. “Have you ever sparred with a woman?”
“Of course not, that would be ludicrous. Come now, you must know that it’s for their own good.”
Karza was edging forward, but Jav shifted to gently block her, his cold stare unaltered and never falling away from the other man. “How many training partners have you had?”
“A few. But my teacher is peerless in his art and I am his top student.”
“Does he know you’re here?”
“Well, of course he does! Just what are you—”
Karza was out of patience now and could no longer take the man seriously. “Who are you anyway?”
“Do you mean to say that you don’t recognize the noble features of the long-lived and esteemed Jaim clan? I am Leban Jaim and I will be leaving here today as a finalist. One other will come away from this ring, but, sadly, it will be neither of you.” He sighed dramatically and turned his back on them. They looked at each other, Jav shrugging and Karza shaking her head in disgust.
Both were thinking about introducing themselves to some of the other fighters when an announcement boomed out across the palace courtyard: “All fighters. . . please report to your ring attendants. Block One fighters: Rings One through Four; Block Two fighters: Rings Five through Eight. Repeat. . .”
Jav and Karza moved to a frail little spectacled man holding a clipboard and gave him their names. All over, others stepped up to do the same. As the information from various rings was collected, the giant screen came alive, names cycling through countless permutations unti
l settling on the final random pairings that would determine the order of the day’s bouts.
Jav laughed softly to himself when he saw that his opponent was the confused misogynist Leban Jaim and they would be first, but as he tried to give Karza a reassuring glance, another announcement echoed out and this time it was the Emperor.
“Welcome, all, on this, the 50th day of the 10,686th year of our glorious Viscain Empire. You who have trained, you who will compete: it is a matter of course that you are the future of this Empire. What you do here today will set into motion the standard which will determine the reach and breadth of our successes to come. Make no mistake, the burden upon you is great. The standard of generations past is staggering, but you all have the potential; you all have it in you to meet or exceed that standard. Rise up, demonstrate your powers, and show all of us gathered here today the future that is to come!”
Finished or not, roaring cheers from fighters, trainers, and many thousands of spectators filled the ranging bowl of the courtyard, drowning out all other sounds. Eventually, though, the sound of several bells representing individual rings pierced the crowd’s thunder and reduced it to a throbbing murmur.
At Ring Five an automated voice called Jav and Leban Jaim to finish preparations and enter. All through the blocks, a similar message had gone out. The crowd quieted down and a chorus of bells sounded in concert, signaling the start of the first matches of the day.
Block 2, Ring 5
Leban Jaim: Secret Track Pole Sword
VS
Jav Holson: 18 Heavenly Claws
Jaim’s face took on a serious aspect, but Jav couldn’t help feel that it was an affected look. Jaim took his pole sword in both hands and spun it in a flourish that was impressive, but that didn’t seem to have much martial application. He wasn’t through, though. He walked through a number of steps, which clearly did have martial application, but not against thin air.
Jav’s arms were folded across his chest in an attitude of impatience. He dropped his arms and moved forward. And did so with a speed most definitely outside the confines of Jaim’s experience and expectations. Jav seized Jaim’s pole sword and held it unmoving in the iron grip of his left hand, even as he shifted his body slightly and drove a right backhanded claw into the surprised man’s chest. The force of the blow was enough to send Jaim sprawling, torn free from his own clutching grip on the pole sword. From somewhere behind him, Jav heard a loud, boisterous laugh that he knew belonged to Karza, and he grinned in spite of himself.
Returning his attention to the match, Jav noted Jaim struggling to rise, but he took a moment to examine the weapon. While Jav had never entertained the idea of using any sort of weapon—did not, in fact, like the idea of using them—this one he found interesting if only aesthetically. Its weight and balance spoke of a devastating potential, but not in his hands. He threw the pole sword back to Jaim who caught it clumsily and almost fell back down.
Jav waited, looking politely bored, while Jaim decided his best tack. Indecision prevailed, however, as Jaim’s face ran through a cycle of repeating expressions—hope, frustration, despair. Finally, Jav advanced again. Jaim swung his weapon, but it was wild and desperate and not equal to Jav’s speed or finesse. A series of pressing strikes drove Jaim helplessly back—a palm heel to the head, another to the chest, a grab to bring him back, and a final, sinking palm heel to the abdomen.
Jaim dropped, making loud retching sounds even as he faded into unconsciousness. Jav took the pole sword and drove one third of the blade into the ring only two centimeters away from Jaim’s head.
The bell sounded and Jav was declared the winner. He was not happy, though. Leban Jaim had no business being in this competition and Jav wondered if his esteemed clan should be pitied, or if in fact it was Jaim’s teacher who should be.
There was a ten-minute pause between matches and while Jav was staring sullenly at nothing, Karza came up to him.
“I knew he was boasting,” she said, her tone somber, “but I had no idea how much. You were good to go easy on him.”
He smiled wanly and said, “Thanks.”
They both faced the ring now in anticipation of the next bout.
Block 2, Ring 5
Bis Karsten: Liquid Steel Spiral Whip
VS
Zel Rulender: Comet Fist
The two that faced each other in the ring seemed horribly mismatched, but Jav knew that appearances meant little. Bald and naked to the waist, Rulender was slightly taller than Jav, but his musculature was almost obscenely overdeveloped. Since the F-Gene worked differently in everyone, physique didn’t necessarily say much about one’s ability. The effect of his appearance, however, was hard to deny. Rulender looked like a born and practiced destroyer, and as he soon demonstrated, his skills were sufficient to facilitate any imaginable destruction—excepting perhaps that of his opponent.
Bis Karsten was a slight girl of no more than fifteen—Mao’s age. She wore formal dress robes tied off, out of the way behind her back, and loose pants of some luxurious fabric tied off at the ankles. In her right hand was a coiled whip made of some unknown, pliant material that was likely not steel. She bowed humbly out of respect for her opponent, and receiving the same from Rulender, they began their match.
Letting out a disconcerting howl, Rulender charged first with light foaming about and behind his right fist like a seething wake. This was the Comet Fist and while Jav didn’t know the principles that made it possible, he could feel the power contained within in it even outside the ring. There was a small explosion as relative pressures were forced into equilibrium upon delivery of Rulender’s punch, but Karsten, her face dispassionate, was sailing through the air overhead, safely clear of the potential devastation and apparently unmoved in the least by the display. But while still in the air, her whip came uncoiled and responded to the almost imperceptible motion of her wrist, its tip laying a vivid red line across Rulender’s bare back.
He turned towards her, grinning, surprised perhaps, but pleased at the prospect of a good contest. She said nothing and her face betrayed no emotion, except maybe, buried very, very deeply, some old and nameless, unspeakable sadness. Rulender didn’t know and he didn’t care. He ran at Karsten again, this time both fists leaving wakes of textured, frothy light and this time actually engaging her. His fists moved, filling the ring with bright and fabulous trails. Karsten first dodged the potent blows, but the strain of such effort began to show, if only slightly, on her face.
Up close, her whip was not exactly useless, but it was limited. She gambled on the right moment and though clipped in the ribs for her miscalculation, she had managed to put a short distance between them and bring her whip into play. She traced a great circle with it, creating a hypnotic pattern and an impregnable shield that reversed the concussive force of Rulender’s punches back at him and sent him several paces backwards. The pattern, though, spinning in rhythmic perfection, undulating with life and sinister purpose, held him transfixed. His eyes wide and glassy, his jaw slack, Rulender staggered forward in dazed stutter-steps, urged on by the beautiful, endless spiral.
Jav watched from the ringside and knew for a certainty that if Rulender completed his journey and reached the source of his fascination, he would be dead, carved into neat slices and convenient chunks by the whirling whip. To be drawn senseless to a fate like that seemed a terrible waste to Jav and he silently entreated Rulender, however possible, to break the spell.
As he continued to watch Rulender carefully, Jav noticed that the big fighter’s steps had become heavier—he was resisting now. Moreover, Rulender’s eyes were no longer glassy. Awareness flickered there and developed into willful intent. He stopped, anger and disgust plain on his face, and from his fists erupted seething and incessant explosions of light that seemed to rise from their twin sources like streamers of smoke.
For an instant, Karsten’s face became fierce as she exhaled sharply and audibly. The spiral of her whip bulged out towards Rulender, expanding like
a balloon and then, like a balloon, it seemed to pop. The rush of air and force buffeted Rulender who raised his arms to block his face, but blood burst forth from two points and spattered down his front. Karsten’s whip, now a long, solid nail, was driven all the way through his left forearm and shoulder. Red welt ripples radiated out from the whip’s lanced target and burned starkly against his exposed skin.
Karsten yanked at her whip which first went slack, then came messily free from where it was lodged. The force of her pull brought Rulender to one knee, but he didn’t stop to acknowledge the pain. He jumped from the forced half-crouch and advanced on Karsten once again. She sent her lash, and as he dodged it, she drew back. Again and again, this sequence was repeated, and each time Karsten only managed to put ever-decreasing distance between them. Rulender’s left arm hung useless behind him, but his right fist was a thing of deadly potential.
One last time her whip came, and even as Rulender thought he was safe from its biting length and threw his final punch, the whip coiled silently around his outstretched arm. Karsten jumped towards him, over him, pulling her whip taut so that its coils gathered under his armpit and sheared his arm clean off at the shoulder.
Rulender crashed to the ring floor upon his open, pulpy shoulder, painting a rough, erratic brush stroke of red there. He kicked and thrashed in agony, unable to even apply pressure with his left hand.
The match was ended. Medical personnel rushed into the ring, performed some emergency procedures, collected Rulender’s arm, then carried him off to the hospital. Considering some of his own past injuries, Jav thought they would probably be able to reattach the arm. But the atmosphere, at least at Ring Five, had taken on a tone markedly changed. Violence was to be expected, but the emotionless silence with which Bis Karsten conducted herself was chilling.
The Artifact Competition (Approaching Infinity Book 1) Page 12