by Reiter
“Orange,” Valian thought. “He’s trying to say orange. That must be the color for the stunner. But what do the other colors do?”
Yorlson fell to his knees and the pad he was on turned violet in color. In a flash of violet light, Yorlson was gone. Another violet flash happened on the other side of the platform and Yorlson reappeared. The black pad he was kneeling on turned yellow and electricity was fired from the drone. Yorlson screamed and fell to his back.
“Electric shock,” Valian measured, looking at the pad Yorlson had been teleported away from. He could see a very slight black triangle in the pad, the point of it facing where Yorlson was now. “The shock might actually help him recover from the effects of the stunner,” he thought, stepping out on the gray pad, Valian ran toward Yorlson.
“And the colors... red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet, white and black. Black is the absence of light, so it’s safe to step on. I know I don’t want to see what happens if I step on a white pad!”
The pattern of what would be black shifted, forcing Valian in a direction he did not want to go. He was frustrated until he saw a violet pad. He smirked and jumped, trying to land on the pad in such a way to turn the pad and change the direction of the black triangle. He smiled when he realized that turning the pad delayed the teleport.
“No!” he thought, seeing that the floor patterns were changing again... and the red was about to sweep under Yorlson who was just recovering the control of his body.
“Yorlson, roll over now!” Valian shouted.
To the relief of the Duke’s ward and everyone watching, Yorlson did roll over and his body rolled out of the way of the blast of red flames. The red pads seemed to recede for a moment, but Valian could see them making another run at Yorlson and it did not look as if the young man could make another rolling attempt.
“If red is fire...” he thought, turning the triangle to a pad close to Yorlson but to the right of him. Valian coiled his legs under him and the violet light flashed. He landed on a blue pad, paused a moment and then jumped.
Pain stabbed through his arm and back and he screamed. But he had landed on a blue pad. Before he could jump, a blue beam of energy had fired, striking his shoulder and back. Before Valian could be totally encased in ice, he had jumped, landing on a black pad between Yorlson and the drone. It fired its red flames into the mound of ice. The two canceled each other out and though singed, the Duke’s ward was able to move.
Valian grabbed Yorlson and dragged him quickly across the floor, running ahead of a myriad of blasts until they reached the black-floored center where Valian collapsed to the first stair. He rolled over on his back and winced in pain as the last of the ice fell off of his body. Most of the sleeve of his uniform fell away with it, showing burned skin from the forearm to the shoulder.
“Three platforms solved,” Valian panted, hearing another scream ending in a splash. “... and there are three more platforms before the final stride. After you, brother.”
“Actually, this time I will go after you,” Yorlson replied, getting up to his hands and knees.
Valian nodded and pulled himself up. He offered Yorlson his left hand and then helped the Duke’s son up to his feet. “Then let us get to it.”
At the top of the stairway there was a single circular pad, flashing violet. Valian could not see a pointing arrow, but with no other choice, he stepped onto the pad. In a flash of light he was teleported to the next platform. He was facing a large wall of weapons of all sorts and it was only a moment before they changed, going from blades and club to blasters and energy bracers. Valian stepped off the platform and seconds later Yorlson appeared.
“Turn and face your greatest fear,” a hissing voice echoed through the chamber.
“This should be interesting,” Valian thought as he slowly turned to see a large room designed much like a dojo. On the opposite was another pad. Just beyond that, the far wall, which was a mirror, began to shimmer.
“No,” Valian said softly, as to images started to form in the mirror-wall. “Turn around!”
“What?” Yorlson asked, taking down a fast-repeating energy rifle.
Valian moved quickly to smack the device out of his hands before he grabbed Yorlson’s shirt. “Turn back around!”
“Valian-”
“It said ‘turn and face your greatest fear’. That’s the trap! If we don’t turn, there’s no fear to face.”
“That is stupid!”
“Remember the lesson we learned from father?” Valian pleaded. “He said, ‘a dojo isn’t a place where we learn to fight. It’s a place we learn how not to fight’! Trust me, Brother! You can’t fight your fears with weapons!
“Walk with me,” Valian directed as he started walking backward.
“Backwards?!” Yorlson barked.
“We don’t need to see the wall,” Valian stated, increasing his pace. “We just need to see the floor.” The two boys made their way across the floor, reaching the pad at the same time and they were teleported to the next platform.
“Not for a lack of trying, Games Masters,” Seranos commented, nodding at the lead designer and his section. “I am sure we will have more entertaining engagements with the other racers.” The Grandmaster Praeceptor then looked over at the Duke who bowed in a fashion of a student signifying their respect to their teacher. It was an old lesson, and Seranos was proud that it had taken root in one of his better students; so much so that Seranos’ student had turned around and taught it to his children.
With the mirror-walled platform behind them, the two children landed on what appeared to be a mirror-glass floored platform. Both boys felt a breeze churned up by the speed of the platform as it flew in its orbit. Already they could see the fifth platform flying in an elliptical orbit above them. While there were several ropes hanging from the bottom of the fifth platform, the ladder hanging down from the center was easier to reach. Before moving from the center of the platform, both boys looked around only to see nothing.
“And what is the trap here?” Yorlson asked.
“I’m not sure,” Valian said, taking a step away from the center. His foot slipped and the boy nearly fell before he made it back to the center where his boots once again had traction.
“Found it,” Valian announced in a voice that made Yorlson laugh.
“I would say that you did,” Yorlson agreed, moving his foot across the metal. “But look, the sides of our boots seem to grip the metal, as does the heel and toe. It appears that we will both be giving our thanks to my mother for her insistence that we learn to skate.”
Yorlson pushed off from the center and glided across the platform to the edge where he could reach the ladder. He was just a few meters into his trek when both boys noticed that the platform started tilting.
“Yorlson stop!” Valian shouted, pushing off from the center in the opposite direction from Yorlson. He slid to a stop, estimating the distance Yorlson was from the center. Valian knew he was not as far away as the Duke’s son, but the platform moved back to level. “Right,” he whispered, sliding to a stop, “because I’m heavier than he is.”
“How do we reach the ladder?” Yorlson cried out.
“We keep moving away from the center at the same time,” Valian shouted. “When you reach the ladder, hold on to it, but keep your weight on the platform. I should have enough time to skate to one of the hanging ropes.”
The Duchess had achieved her desired reaction: an audience so drawn into the race that they did not speak among themselves, and they were not transmitting messages to other places in the Empire. Even those that were recording the race did so with mouths either open or closed, but unmoving, regardless of their position. What she had not calculated was the imagination of a Games Designer who had been turned loose on a project. Her son had been injured, perhaps even burned; there was a chance this event would leave him marked for life. To say nothing of the child she had adopted into her home after his parents had paid the greatest price while delivering t
he Duchess and her children to safety. The Duchess maintained her face and her frame for the sake of propriety, but Guysorla questioned what she had done.
Others who were watching the race had different things on their mind. Seranos was not thinking of the cost of the present, but the possibility of tomorrow. “And this ward of the Duke has a sharp mind to go with that machine of a body,” Seranos observed as his eyes squinted. “Still, there is a major flaw with his plan.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” Yorlson estimated. “Push off on three?”
“Three it will be.”
Moving away from one another, the platform remained steady and Yorlson had an easy transit to the ladder. With the speed the platform was moving, he knew that Valian would have to move fast to get to one of the ropes.
“But he is fast,” Yorlson thought, lifting one foot off the platform.
Valian stumbled, feeling the platform move. He looked at Yorlson, but he did not hold his eyes for too long. The memories of the night he lost his parents came flooding back into his mind. That had been a life and death situation, and Yorlson had demonstrated what he thought of Valian. The ducal Ward truly had not expected any difference today. He had hope, but not much faith. Still he pushed off, skating for every bit of speed he could claim.
“No, Pallid, you’re not that fast,” Yorlson whispered, lifting his other foot off of the platform. He raised his head and started his climb up the ladder.
Every life is a march from innocence, through temptation, to virtue or vice.
Lyman Abbott
(Rims Time: XI-4305.30)
“He won’t make it to the ropes!” Pirion cried, grabbing onto his sister.
“He’s not even looking at the ropes,” Shonsatah smiled. She did not know what he was going to do, but she knew it was going to be a sight to see. She had hope, but she had even greater faith. “What are you doing, Val?”
“Sure hope I have the timing right,” Valian thought as the platform tilted. He knew he would get no traction or any kind of support from the surface... not as long as it was under him. “Now, catch the ladder.” Valian smiled as the platform struck the bottom of the ladder. While everything was still at a tilt, Valian had been given time to skate faster. “Now release.” The edge pulled free of the ladder and it resumed its tilt. The thing was almost vertical and Valian started falling. Before he reached the bottom, he pushed off from the platform and sailed out and down... landing on the third platform. He landed on a black disc, but his body had to roll to try and absorb the tremendous impact of the fall. Ice, fire, electricity, stunner beams, poison blasts, and blasts of indigo color fired, missing his tumbling and sliding body. Sliding onto a violet disc, Valian grabbed it and turned the circle before he teleported. He landed on a black disc and rolled out into the safe area where he and Yorlson had first come out to the test. Wracked with pain, he found relief in the fact that he had not fallen into the lake. The race was not over for him.
“So, do you still have no fight with any racer, Valian?” H’Tanvor asked before stomping Valian in the stomach. Valian curled up in a ball, rolling over on his side. H’Tanvor smiled, stepping back. “Get him up.”
“They can’t do that!” Shonsatah cried out.
“Oh, they can and they most assuredly will!” Kelsbi returned. “Someone needs to put that Pallid in his place!”
The fist of Vaiyorl Jhormynn closed and he turned to look at True Lord Kelsbi... perhaps he intended to do more than look. But his eyes swept across a figure who had turned to look at him, and her opal eyes prevented the man from allowing his impulses to rule his over his body. He simply stood there, staring at his wife, feeling her silent pleas for him to contain his anger.
How many times had they been made to face the issue? Having one like Valian Styrke in their presence certainly presented its challenges. It was a matter that had even been mentioned by the Empress on more than one occasion. However her inquiries were housed in the realm of consideration, asking after the boy and how he had been faring after the loss of his parents.
“With everything that is happening,” Vaiyorl had said as he paced one evening not too far past. “... perhaps it would be best if we were to find a home for the boy.”
“That is not what my husband wants to do,” Guysorla had replied, walking to intercept the man and take hold of his face. “Oh, my giving man. Take a moment and recognize you judge from an assumed station.”
“Do I, Guy?”
“You do, my love.
“Remember... you weren’t there aboard that ship,” she had continued, taking a moment to stroke the side of his face. “... and I know it was not through any fault of yours. The reason why any of us are alive is solely because of your nature. It was your wish to give the carnies the grounds of the estate to pitch their tents... and it was your insistence that the entire family visit the carnival.
“I can still remember the argument Yorlson tried to give you, demanding he be allowed to remain in the house. And had he remained, he would have died!
“Valian’s parents didn’t know us... and with all that the carnies had done to keep us alive through the beginnings of the attacks, there was no debt they owed to your station. If anything, we owed them.
Guysorla stepped back from her husband and turned to face the doors to the balcony. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to warm her spirits from the cold of being ashamed of the woman she had been that day.
“And what I thought of Valian’s father when I saw him,” she said softly.
“Darling, the man was Darkbred,” Vaiyorl had defended. He walked up behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her. “Not even the Ardrians know all of what they did to that man’s family. It was a minor miracle that Kolinkar Styrke was even born!”
“But he was born, wasn’t he?” she had returned, turning to face her husband. “And when I and the children needed protection, he fought for us. He didn’t fight like a mercenary, or even a man gifted in combat... Vai, he fought like a man desperate to save his family. He was merciless against anyone who intended to visit harm on your wife and children.
“His wife piloted that rickety skiff finer than the best Imperial Star-Killer. She evaded fighters... and she even managed to avoid the first cannon volley from a War Tower! We’re alive because of their efforts, and the only thing that is evidence of their lives is my memory and their son.
“Yes, he is pale of color... but that is the only slight nature has placed on him. With the dealing the G’Pollo Family has had with Middle-Rimmers, you presume that I have issue with the boy. You needn’t bend your aims to suit your wife. Even if you were not here, that boy would still live under the roof that was mine!”
Vaiyorl had gazed into his wife’s eyes and breathed as if a ton had been removed from his shoulders. “It will not be easy, you know.”
“Because you woke up one morning, fell out of bed, and became a Duke?”
“Point made and received,” Vaiyorl had chuckled. “But know this... I will not have him as a ward.”
“That is not your way, my husband,” Guysorla had replied. “Let that title be for those we must answer to.”
“Agreed. Because there is only one way I will receive the son of a man who fought to the death in the name of my family... Valian Styrke is my son.”
“Our son, my husband,” she had corrected him. “He is our son.”
Vaiyorl gazed in her eyes now the way he had that evening... and he found the same strength fortifying him once again. He nodded to his wife, and her smile acknowledged the moment and their continued understanding.
“Father, look!” Shonsatah insisted and Vaiyorl looked first at his daughter and then lifted his gaze to the monitor she was looking at.
Valian had been grabbed by his arms and lifted from the floor of the third platform. He was made to stand in front of H’Tanvor who smiled as he rubbed his fist. He punched Valian in the face and walked away laughing. Valian was made to stand up again, but his body was
limp.
“Did that hurt, Pallid?” the son of True Lord Herthane asked, already knowing the answer. “It looked like it hurt... but I can’t really be sure. Let’s remove all doubt.” The two boys stood Valian up once more. “Tell me if this hurts, Pallid!” H’Tanvor rushed forward, his fist swinging around with even more fury than the previous blow.
The boy’s hand cracked against the top of Valian’s head.
It was an old boxing defense Valian had been taught. The skull was one of the hardest bones in the body, and punching someone in the top of the head often resulted in an injured hand. H’Tanvor stumbled back wailing in pain. Valian threw his head back and performed a backflip. His arms twisted free of the two boys holding him. It was no small bonus that Valian was able to kick H’Tanvor in the face on his way over.
“Yes, it hurts,” Valian thought. “Pain is pancakes and I want some more!”
Just after putting his feet down, Valian was tackled from behind. H’Tanvor still had too many friends to make fighting him a simple matter.
“Get H’Tanvor!” another boy cried and the two boys that had been holding Valian rushed to grab H’Tanvor and get him through the test of the platform.
Valian cried out as the fist of his opponent hammered into his ribs. Another fist found his jaw, but it had the opposite of the intended effect. After the blow landed, Valian’s eyes locked on the boy who had just hit him and he screamed, taking a clawing hold of the boy’s face. The boy wailed too as he was moved off of Valian. One punch sent the boy to his back, crying and Valian quickly got up to his feet. He glared at H’Tanvor and started to snarl. A piercing cry that was too close to be a spectator reached his ears. He turned and looked down at the second platform. Hanging from one of the extended poles – and only by one hand – was the girl who had declared she had no fight with either of the Jhormynn entries.
Valian smirked before his face twisted into a fierce frown. “Hold on!” he yelled. Taking a moment to judge the moving platforms, Valian shot out on the floor, landing on a black pad. He rolled, avoiding a stunner to land on a white pad. A blinding burst of light robbed the spectators of their view. Coming away from the small explosion, Valian ran, jumped, and slid across the floor. Several beams fired, missing him, and he came to a violet pad, turning it in a peculiar direction.