The Artifact Competition (Approaching Infinity Book 1)

by Chris Eisenlauer

  • • •

  Distracted from his blackening thoughts by the activity in Ring Eight behind him, Jav turned to watch, hoping that technique—without unnecessary maiming—would suffice there. Consulting the information board, Jav saw that the girl, perhaps in her early twenties like most of the rest of Hol’s students, was Lara Bester and her Lead Cloud Steps. Her powerful and well-shaped legs were bare except for her ankles, which were wrapped in strips of white cloth. Overall, she was compact and stout, but there was no trace of fat on her as was made plain by the simple, long-sleeved indigo leotard she wore. Her brown hair was tied into a tight knot, giving her white face a fresh and intelligent air. But her legs. They were as close to being overdeveloped without actually being so as possible, and belying their heavy, unwieldy appearance, they cut through the air with unprecedented speed, precision, and deftness. She moved with a lightness and ease that, Jav was sure, put her ability on the gravity block well above his own.

  The fight was soon over. Jav hardly had a chance to study Bester’s opponent before she assaulted the man with volley of vicious, unrelenting kicks that knocked him first unconscious, and then, like a rag doll, out of the ring. There was no sense of intentional overkill in her attack, though her follow through may have made it seem so.

  The bell sounded and the next fighters were called to Ring Five. As Jav heard her name, Karza walked past him and said with a grin, “Watch how it dances.”

  “I will. And good luck!”

  Block 2, Ring 5

  Olander Karza: Chain Guillotine

  VS

  Harn Heffler: Heaven & Hell Swords

  The two paid their respects then regarded each other in silence. Karza stood at least a head taller than Heffler, but if he was intimidated, he didn’t show it. He held a sword in each hand. The one in his right hand was polished to white-silver brilliance, was clean and simple, and its edge might even be considered merciful when compared to the that of the blade in his left hand. That sword was black iron, heavy, and with a jagged, unforgiving saw-tooth blade designed to administer punishment. These were the Heaven & Hell Swords and, having adequately sized up his opponent, Heffler wasted no time in putting them to use.

  He lunged forward, and as he crossed his swords, sparks showered in a dazzling array. Karza wouldn’t be taken by such tricks, though. She leapt back and sent her terrible weapon straight at Heffler. Her heavy square blade clanged reverberantly against Heffler’s crossed swords, the force of her throw jarring him bodily and setting his arms to shaking.

  He shrugged off her attack, but she had already recalled her guillotine. He would have to get in close, but that would be difficult. Her guillotine shot forth now, leaving wedge cuts in the ring floor, marking where Heffler had been the instant before. Gauging her speed and what he assumed to be her weapon’s limitations, Heffler caught the guillotine’s chain up in the teeth of his Hell Sword. Twisting and winding the chain into a knotted tangle, he closed the distance between them. Holding the Hell Sword tight for control, he engaged Karza with the Heaven Sword.

  Heffler’s technique was consummate, but Karza used the remaining length of chain to thwart his blade as if it were designed for that purpose. The sound of blade against chain became a monotonous din that began to frustrate Heffler. Worse, Karza’s superior strength was beginning to overwhelm him. Finally, she took her chain and, giving it a few dexterous tugs, untangled it from Heffler’s fanged sword, and in doing so also wrenched the sword from Heffler’s grasp. While the sword spun in the air, Karza gave her chain a jerk that caused a wave to run through its length, and when the crest of that wave struck the Hell Sword, the blade shattered suddenly and fantastically like cheap pottery.

  Heffler gawked, but only for an instant. Karza’s attention was still on the broken sword and he took advantage of her preoccupation. He threw himself forward and succeeded in running Karza through. Or so he thought.

  The tip of his blade had indeed sunk more than three centimeters into the flesh just below her ribs on her left side, but the progress of the blade had been checked, caught in a tight loop of chain held on either side by Karza’s big hands. She grunted but smiled and a hint of the animal had returned to her.

  Using the grip of the chain, Karza extracted the blade and kicked Heffler free of her. She collected her weapon and said in a frighteningly playful voice, “You’d better run.”

  Heffler couldn’t guess the full implications of her suggestion at first, but he didn’t ignore her. He jumped to avoid the guillotine. This time, though, instead of sinking into the ring floor, her blade reacted to her manipulations of the chain and followed him. She laughed hysterically, operating her weapon like a deadly, single-minded puppet that trailed after and worried Heffler to no end. He stumbled and turned to meet her blade with his own and again his arm rang with the shock of impact. Nor was her heavy blade finished. It hung in the air, seeming to float like a reared snake before striking again. There was nothing magical about it; through her expert handling of the chain, the guillotine did as Karza had said—it danced for her.

  Heffler somehow managed to ward off the second strike and resume his retreat, but as Karza’s guillotine pressed, he saw no choice but to address it directly—in this competition, running would afford him little. He dragged the clean edge of the Heaven Sword over his left palm and squeezed the blood in big drops back onto the blade, all along its length. Then, arms outstretched as if holding both the Heaven and Hell Swords, he brought his hands together and said solemnly, “Heaven and Hell United.”

  A phantom outline formed around the Heaven Sword that altered and expanded in three successive stages. Its final shape was reminiscent of a giant scimitar, the top of which was serrated much like the Hell Sword had been. The blade shimmered, a thing of solid emptiness, pearlescent black and red with gleams of silver shooting throughout. Heffler held the sword in both hands and swung it in a series of arcs to defend against and turn back Karza’s guillotine. He advanced and now forced Karza back. With this new technique, Heffler had, at the very least, become Karza’s equal. He met her blade unerringly and with none of the previous discrepancy in strength. Back, back he forced her. She twisted her chain and directed her blade, but she couldn’t continue to do so indefinitely under Heffler’s constant pressure.

  Heffler’s face had taken on a white cast, and sweat beaded in rows on his forehead, but his expression showed nothing of distress or fatigue, only determination.

  Karza redoubled her efforts and gave her chain a whirl which set the big square blade to spinning like a giant drill bit. Heffler parried and struck with his phantom blade and sent the guillotine flying, leaving Karza dangerously open.

  Nearly in a panic, she reigned in her guillotine, bringing it all the way back. She had no choice as Heffler closed in, but pulling it back cost her precious time and she may not get another chance to use it. Heffler was nearly on her when she flung it one last time in desperation. And then she noticed and had to act against time.

  Heffler had dropped his arms and come to a stop, his eyes blank, expressionless pits. Karza coaxed her chain and kept the blade hovering before Heffler’s face briefly before once more recalling it.

  The man stood there, still and unmoving, until he finally collapsed. The aura surrounding the Heaven Sword had faded and the blade itself, veined with cracks, began to spill a bizarre and inordinate amount of blood.

  They would learn later that the sword had been leeching Heffler’s blood through the cut in his left hand and because he had been forced to use only one sword, its appetite had been double.

  • • •

  Karza was proclaimed the winner and Heffler was taken to the hospital. When she stepped down from the ring she looked at Jav and said, “Well?”

  “You weren’t kidding.”

  “Nope. But I’ll tell you, that Heaven and Hell United had me worried.”

  Jav nodded. “Maybe, but you dominated from the beginning and from here it looked like that technique of his
was too much of a gamble—fine if this was the end, but this competition is just the beginning, right? If we start the first round by using our last resort techniques, we shouldn’t be here.” Jav suddenly realized that his tone had become a bit too serious and judgmental and he blushed. “You did a great job.”

  “Thanks,” she said, her voice soft and almost girlish.

  At the ring kitty-corner from them, Jav heard a familiar name declared the winner. It was Ren Fauer, the student of Kimbal Furst, one of Laedra Hol’s teammates from the Triangle Squad. Jav excused himself and made his way over to Ring Seven.

  Approaching the young man, Jav said tentatively, “Are you Ren Fauer?”

  “I am. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m Jav Holson. I train with Laedra Hol,” he said, his voice rising almost in a question, hoping for recognition. “I just wanted to introduce myself. All the girls speak very highly of you.”

  “Oh, yes!” He took Jav’s hand and shook it. “It’s great to finally meet you. And the girls were just being polite.”

  “It’s great to meet you, too, but are you sure we’re talking about the same girls? Any praise, especially from the twins, is pretty hard to come by.”

  They laughed and Ren scratched his head self-consciously. “Froster and I just missed you when we visited last. Are you here with Mei?”

  “Yeah, she’s competing in Block One.”

  “With Froster. . .”

  “Gast Froster?”

  “Yeah, Cov Merasec’s student. Out of our three schools, he’s been training the longest. Kind of a shame if they have to fight each other.”

  Jav nodded. “I, uh, didn’t see your fight, but congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” Ren checked the information screen. “Looks like congratulations are in order for you, too.”

  “Thanks, but that fight was just embarrassing.”

  “Jaim. . . Yeah, there was a rumor going around about him and I guess you proved it true. No one knew for sure, though. His teacher, Salavar Grummel, is supposed to be one of the best.”

  “He probably is. Jaim, however, needs more practice.”

  While watching the match at Ring Seven without really seeing it, each found conversation with the other an easy and natural thing, and so they chatted until after the match ended and into the longer break that separated the first and second rounds.

  As Mei, Hol, Kalkin, and a fourth person, a man Jav did not recognize, joined them, introductions were made and greetings exchanged. The fourth person was Kimbal Furst, formerly of the Triangle Squad, and he cut an impressive figure. He wasn’t much bigger than Jav, but he was wiry and his skin was like bronze. In a way he reminded Jav of Cranden, but Furst had a sharp, wild look with penetrating eyes. He also had a thatch of blond hair that Cranden couldn’t quite match. Each of his wrists was surrounded by a thick growth of long pink feathers that reached a little more than half the length of his forearms. These were the Taikou Quills, the Artifact bestowed upon him by the Emperor. He wore a simple white T-shirt and flowing, faded pink pants that were tied at the ankles. Not many people, men in particular, could carry off that shade of pink, but the contrast with his bronze skin was startling and it recalled nothing of the feminine.

  “So, how’d you do, Mei?” Jav said, genuinely interested.

  She looked at Jav and he started to think that she wasn’t going to answer, but finally she sighed and in a bored, superior tone she said, “I won.”

  “Congratulations!”

  “That’s great, Mei!” Ren added.

  She turned to Ren and the cast of her face changed completely. “Thanks, Ren! You won, too, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I guess I did.” He laughed embarrassedly.

  “Well, I’m not surprised. There’s no way you could’ve lost, really.”

  Avoiding Jav, Mei had Ren fully engaged in conversation and the two proceeded to catch up. Furst wanted to know more about Jav and Jav, apologizing for knowing little about himself, recounted the main points of the last three years.

  The time came for the second rounds to begin. At Ring Five, Jav’s match would come before Mei’s at Ring Three, so Hol would join Kalkin and stay in Block Two for the time being. The teachers left their students to the appropriate rings and Mei, in a brighter mood than Jav had ever seen, returned to Block One, waving a temporary goodbye to Ren. Jav and Ren wished each other luck and separated.

  Block 2, Ring 5

  Jav Holson: 18 Heavenly Claws

  VS

  Bis Karsten: Liquid Steel Spiral Whip

  Jav and Karsten exchanged respectful bows and stood facing each other. He wasn’t afraid of her whip, but he would need to be careful. He waited and forced her to make the first move. When her whip came, he sidestepped, and affecting the eagle, he leapt at her.

  Her whip dragged along his cheek, and he saw that she could move faster than she had in her bout with Rulender. Her whip retreated, returned, coming at him like a storm of arrows before he could close half the distance. His slate-blue coat was soon tattered and being dyed red before everyone’s eyes. Protecting his face, Jav ignored the biting whip and followed through with his initial strategy. Concentrating on her attack, Karsten could not now retreat. She did not expect Jav to be in any condition to attack once he landed. She was wrong.

  His left forearm cleared her arms away and he drove the heel of his right palm into her midsection. She folded in half, tottering backwards several steps and clutching at her stomach.

  Jav stood up straight. Despite being covered in his own blood, he was largely unhurt.

  Karsten raised her eyes and looked at Jav, who recognized a little more of the trace sadness he’d noticed during her first fight. He quickly banished his curiosity, though, and shed the remnants of his coat revealing his many scars and the freshly opened aftermarks of Karsten’s whip.

  She had recovered now and set her weapon into motion once again. Jav rushed in, avoiding her lash as much as he could, but not entirely. Then, before he arrived, she started her hypnotic spiral. Jav was expecting this, however, and was ready. His long and many hours of AI visualization training had created far more mesmerizing depths of potential destruction than this simple pinwheel could offer.

  Jav narrowed his eyes and snorted, sure of what was to come next and ready for that also. He was not wrong, either. The spiral burst out, sending its waves of force, which he must endure, but the whip itself was another matter. Stepping aside at the last moment, Jav caught in his left hand the rigid spike that the whip had become.

  The two stood there facing each other like statues, locked on either end of the hardened whip. Though neither appeared to move, a great tug of war was in fact taking place. Karsten was trying with all her might to free her whip and Jav was keeping it still. She was strong, maybe even as strong as Jav, but he outweighed her and she couldn’t overcome his advantage of leverage. She let the whip go slack—and was yanked helplessly forward. Jav had been waiting for her to relax the whip and instantly let fly a right, outside crescent kick, catching the loosening whip on the outer edge of his foot and forcing it in a clockwise arc, which he exaggerated until he stamped his right foot down behind him in a wide horse stance with the whip securely pinned.

  Drawn by the sudden torque on the whip, Karsten stumbled forward and almost into Jav’s left knee. Jav grabbed her outstretched right wrist, pulling as he drove his left elbow into her chest. Karsten came to a jarring halt and there was a loud, hollow popping sound as her right arm was dislocated at the shoulder.

  Her whip fell like a dead snake to the ring floor. Jav got his arms inside both of Karsten’s as he shifted into a left front stance and gave her a shove. It was just enough to put her in position for a right snapping roundhouse kick that struck just under her left armpit and splintered her ribs. She barked a high, sharp cry, but Jav wasn’t finished. He grabbed her right shoulder with his left hand and drove the heel of his right palm into her stomach for the second time. He allowed her to double over
and brought the back of his right hand, circling up from below, hard into her face. She arched over backwards with blood geysering from her nose and a cut on her cheek. She wasn’t dead, but she didn’t get up, either.

  Jav picked up what was left of his coat and stepped down from the ring. Karza was waiting for him, her eyes bright with admiration.

  “Wow,” she said simply. “You okay?”

  He nodded as medical personnel came up and started applying ointment to his cuts and wrapping his arms. Others went to work, retrieving Karsten from the ring.

  “Incredible,” she said. “Poor Rulender. Seems like a waste. But if you’d fought him. . .”

  “He’d still have his arm.” Jav’s tone had become serious and Karza, understanding his feelings, nodded quietly.

  He smiled now and clapped Karza on the shoulder. “You know, if you don’t win, I won’t see you at the finals.”

  “Right!” she said striking her chest. “That’s easy enough. I’ll just make sure that I do.”

  “Good luck, Karza.”

  Block 2, Ring 5

  Olander Karza: Chain Guillotine

  VS

  Sheevan Sigler: Dancing Petals Shield

  Sheevan Sigler was as big as Karza, but his weapon didn’t look like a weapon at all. It was a giant golden shield, which he wore on his left arm and which looked exceedingly heavy except when he moved it. They bowed to each other and Sigler began immediately. Shield before him, he charged forward, but Karza could have sworn that he was blinking in and out, inexplicably closer each time until finally he crashed into her. She was caught off guard by his sudden appearance and sent bodily into the chains encircling the ring.