Wave Mandate

by Schneider, A. C.

Analel fixed her gaze straight ahead as she nodded in the affirmative. Shen could see that Analel was trying to get into her zone but that her nerves were getting in the way. She tried to assuage them with a smile and a final word of encouragement. “You’ll do great, Analel.” With that, she pulled on the lid and a symphony of metal grinding on metal accompanied its route to closure, reaching a crescendo before cutting out with a loud, metallic thud.

  Everything went dark.

  Echoes reverberated throughout the Box, filling Analel’s ears. She had the feeling of being at the center of an infinite blackness. Alone with her thoughts for the first time since this crazy day had begun, she became aware of a singular question gnawing away inside her head, a prodding at the nether regions of her consciousness that only now, with the barriers of distraction removed, felt bold enough to come out of its hiding place and dance around her in the dark.

  What are you? she asked of the elusive thought. There was no answer.

  A hissing sound came from somewhere unseen and Analel could sense the Mist beginning to fill the void. She was still alone but no longer an isolated consciousness within nothingness, rather, she could begin to feel the current of a greater consciousness around her. She was one of many billions, and they were all out there, accessible through the Mist.

  Kelerin was out there too. A boy himself, reaching out, waiting like Analel for that defining moment to arrive and for the chance to grasp it with both hands.

  Was he ready?

  She turned on her Reader and counted the seconds until the Mist would fill up enough, allowing for the broadcasting of his pattern to her device. Iridescent lights began flashing in the dark, charged Mist filled the void with live streams of consciousness and colors lingered after the flashes, playing tricks on the mind’s eye. For a fraction of a second, Analel caught a glimpse of the unknown question again but it skittered off into the black before she could identify it.

  Show yourself! she demanded.

  She thought of Arah lying in her PropS, beautiful, formidable.

  Was she ready?

  Arah was only a few meters away but in moments Analel would be closer to Kelerin, a boy literally a world away, than she could ever be to Arah.

  Reality was funny like that.

  The Mist intensified and the lights came more frequently now. The question could no longer hide in the dark. It was tearing through the synapses of Analel’s thought patterns and stealing rides on the electrical currents of her brain. Then, a voice carried through on the Mist. It was Shen. And just like that, the question revealed itself in all its naked honesty.

  “Analel, are you ready?”

  Chapter 10: Duel

  The Academy, Osmos

  The fame of the Academy’s Faculty Lounge carried well beyond Osmos’ Academic circles. Used as a meeting place for some of the most influential gatherings of Island society over the last two centuries, the Lounge had seen Parliamentarians, Island Guard officers, business executives, and of course, Academic Faculty, all lining up to participate in any event or gathering open to them and taking place within its cultured confines.

  Perhaps it was for the opportunity to network and rub elbows with those who might grease the wheels of advancement in their respective sectors, or perhaps it was a matter of ego, a chance to affirm for themselves the state of their own prestige - probably a bit of both. Whatever the reason, they all came and the Lounge benefited in turn, adding weight to its own history and appreciating in symbolic value with every figurehead to pass underneath its archways. A self perpetuating cycle of prominence, a winning dynamic for all involved.

  As far as furnishings went, the Lounge had all the amenities one would expect to find in a more casual setting of an institution steeped in its own self import. There were heavy arm chairs and cushioned sofas, solid burnished wood tables, large potted plants and fully stocked bookcases lining each and every wall. Its domed ceiling rose to a height of three stories creating an echo chamber, ensuring that any small party discussing private matters beneath its canopy would be hard pressed to ignore the greater context of Academic interest looming over them and adding its acoustic influence to all things spoken. The dome was supported by fifteen arches stretching across the length of its curvature. These arches were themselves supported by elaborately carved sheethem wood pillars, 14 meters in diameter each, and placed all along the north and south sides.

  Generally, the Faculty Lounge was off limits to Students, but not on days when a Final Year duel was scheduled. That evening space filled up quickly with far more spectators piling into the room than in any other Student duel in recent memory. It seemed as though the whole Academy were there. Students, in their all-white uniforms, lined the walls and straddled the pillars. Blue belted, cross-sashed Teachers filled the couches and chairs or conversed around tables with the occasional fully colored blue tunic Professor mixed in among them.

  Kelerin had already met up with Dunner after leaving the Armory and they’d both made their way over to the Lounge together. Pausing at the entrance, Kelerin absorbed the charge in the atmosphere, which was quite electrified at the moment. It was as if all the milling about on the rugs was generating a static current flowing through everything inside the room. His skin tingled all over, the hairs on his arms and neck stood on end, adrenaline began pumping throughout his body and his palms became flush red with capillaries gorging on blood flow.

  Flexing his fingers into fists and releasing them, he watched as the tendons in his arms tightened up and went slack again. He repeated this motion several times and the charge oxygenating his blood seemed to respond to it, flowing out his palms and the tips of his fingers, granting him the sense that at that moment he could do just about anything.

  Dunner, who’d already walked several paces into the Lounge, noticed his fighting friend no longer at his side and called back to him, “Come on, Kel,” nodding in indication to a spot on the side of the room, one of a few still left unoccupied. He walked over and placed himself inconspicuously at a pillar close to the back wall. Kelerin lingered a moment longer, stealing one last look at the crowd.

  *****

  They waited silently in the midst of a sea of talk and excitement, the gravity of the moment weighing down their tongues. Not too many people noticed their entrance, preoccupied as they were with their own animated discussions. Only the Professors, with an acute awareness Kelerin could not quite fathom, managed to note their appearance from amongst the droves of Students filling every nook and corner of the Lounge.

  “It’s charged up today, isn’t it?” remarked Kelerin at last. They were both taking in the scene in front of them. “I don’t get it,” he continued. “This duel isn’t even between two Teachers, let alone Professors, and yet people are acting like it’s just that.” Dunner only grunted. “Did you know that Professor Harris knows about it?” asked Kelerin, as if this one fact proved his point.

  Dunner was still scoping out the crowd when he answered. “Kelerin, everybody knows about your duel.”

  “OK, why?”

  “Because it isn’t every day a guy gets thrown through a glass panel at the Gymnasium, Kel, that’s why. And it certainly isn’t every day that the guy who got thrown through a glass panel has the opportunity to duel with the other guy who threw him…” he made a rolling motion with his wrist. “…on that same day.”

  “Riiight, good point. So you think people heard about that, huh?”

  “Are you kidding me? Kel, it’s been the talk of the whole Academy for the entire day. I mean the whole Academy. Tharus said even Professors are talking about it, Harris being a case in point. I wouldn’t even be surprised if old Orisius himself decided to show up.”

  “Yeah, that’s not happening, Dunner. The Headmaster never shows up to Student duels.”

  “Relax, Kel. Just don’t go flying through any more walls while you’re out there.”

  Kelerin smiled at that. “Thanks for the tip. You mind if I write that one down?”

  Soon
the steady flow of Students entering the Lounge reduced to a trickle as critical mass approached and the cramped quarters fed an atmosphere bordering on the raucous. Eventually, a tall Teacher named Arnis walked out to the center and slowly the crowd settled into a more subdued state.

  Arnis was an unusually tall man with long limbs and a balding head. Known as a fierce duelist with little compassion for his opponents, one had the impression while looking at him of a human Wave Whip; thin, lightening quick and unforgiving. His voice, high pitch and piercing, almost sounded like one in action. He began by clearing his throat. “Ahem - Students, would you mind arranging the room, please?”

  Since walking through the doors, every single Student in the Lounge had been waiting for the officiating Teacher to utter those exact words. Several hundred boys and young men all snapped into action at once, pushing aside tables and plants, carrying off couches and chairs to the periphery, even while Teachers and Professors were still sitting on them, laughter and whooping calls of excitement being heard throughout the melee.

  Students carrying Teachers and Professors on couches and chairs would ask them, “How’s that, Professor?” “Can you see from here, Teacher?” - while the Professors and Teachers, who were still engrossed in conversations with each other, would break away long enough to answer, “Yes, yes. That’s fine. Right there,” - then, turning back to their colleagues, would pick up where they left off saying things like, “Now, where was I again? Ah, yes…”

  Within seconds the stuffy Faculty Lounge was transformed into a large arena, ringed with Academics and furniture piled high at the edges. Once all was arranged, Teacher Arnis raised his hands and all laughter and commotion was suppressed to no more than that of a whisper.

  “Fellow Faculty and Students,” he began. “Today’s duel is a Final Year duel. As is tradition, Students lining the walls will be expected to have their Ripplers at the ready. As far as I can tell, covering the whole periphery should not be a problem this time around.” Laughter broke out once again across the room.

  “Given the large amount of spectators, though, I do ask that you arrange with your colleagues at your sides exactly how to work together to cover your area without causing harm to the structure or yourselves. Please, do take this seriously.” Teacher Arnis was referring to the long standing tradition of Students protecting the Faculty Lounge during duels. The Lounge was not designed for dueling like the gymnasium and had no built-in deflectors to keep stray lashes from blasting through walls and wreaking general havoc. It became practice for spectators lining the walls to all have their Ripplers activated and held up next to one another serving as a collective human shield-wall, ready to block any attacks missing their mark.

  Over time, this tradition evolved into an unofficial competition, with Students keeping tabs on who could block more lashes. Whatever Teacher Arnis expected by way of inter-Student cooperation, everyone knew it would be more competitive than cooperative, which occasionally did leave the Faculty Lounge as the sole casualty in instances of two Students vying to block the same stray lash canceling each other’s efforts out. Battle scars were readily visible throughout the Lounge, but the room wore them proudly, as any old warrior should.

  “Will the participating duelists please step forward and meet me at the center?” Arnis scanned the crowd for the sight of Students being displaced, like reads of grass being pushed aside by a predator making its way through.

  Kelerin rolled his neck and shook out his shoulders. Staring straight ahead, he said to Dunner, “This one’s for you, brother.”

  “Go get’m, Kel.” Dunner gave his roommate an encouraging slap on the back as Kelerin stepped out from the crowd. Across the way, Valix emerged at the Lounge’s opposite extreme. They both walked over to where Arnis was standing, Valix smiling maliciously the entire time.

  Kelerin had forgotten just how tall Arnis was. Standing up close and being of average height, he only came up to Arnis’ mid-torso level. He was also thicker than Arnis, which only served to accentuate the stick figure-like nature of the Teacher’s frame.

  “OK, Academics,” began Arnis, addressing the two combatants at a volume that left out the rest of the crowd. “This is a Final Year duel, so Teacher-Class Wave Whips will be in use. However, it’s still a Student duel, so only Deflection settings on your Whips, if you please. Should either one of you, at any point during the duel, accidentally switch your Whip to Disrupter, you will be held fully accountable for your actions - do I make myself clear?”

  Kelerin looked at Valix and nodded affirmatively. Valix was still smiling at Kelerin and at first that was the only answer he would give. Arnis was about to prompt him a second time but Valix nodded his own ‘Yes’ before Arnis could do so. The Teacher leveled a questioning gaze on the leering Student, who never broke away from his stare down with Kelerin. Arnis decided to chalk up the behavior to a young duelist’s posturing and left it at that. The fact that Valix was considered by many to be Arnis’ personal protégé might have also contributed to his summation.

  “Excellent. Now, if you will both take your places at opposite ends of the Lounge, we’ll begin on my mark. Is that clear?”

  This time both Kelerin and Valix answered simultaneously in the affirmative and walked to their respective sides. Kelerin reached his end and turned to face Valix, who was still sporting that infuriating grin.

  “You’re going down,” he predicted quietly through clenched teeth.

  *****

  Controlling his emotions seconds before a duel was to start normally came easily to Kelerin, but not this time around. The urge to wipe that smirk off Valix’s face was getting in the way of his focusing. He took a few deep and measured breaths to clear his mind. It was time to contact his Prophet. She should have been in place already. Speaking just below the normal volume for one-on-one conversation, he called out to her. “Prophet?” half a question, half a command.

  “I’m here,” came the immediate response.

  The voice was clear inside his head, like someone whispering in his ears while his eyes were closed. It also sounded vaguely familiar. “Welcome to my mind,” he greeted, hoping to get past the awkward introduction stage quickly, seeing as they had a duel to fight that could begin at any moment.

  “Thank you. Wow, I’m nervous. How about You?”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not be sharing insecurities seconds before a duel.”

  “Of course. I shouldn’t of-”

  “How many duels have you Prophesied for?”

  “Including this one?”

  “Whatever, let’s say yes.”

  “This will be my ninth.”

  Kelerin knew his Prophet would have to be close to Motherhood, Prophesying for a Final Year duel like this, but against Valix that wasn’t enough for him. He needed to know exactly how much he could rely on this girl’s Sight.

  “Have you ever lost?” he asked.

  “Not yet.” Her voice, more confident this time around but without any pretension, which sat much better with him.

  “Good. Let’s try and keep it that way.”

  “I’ll do my best.” A pause, and then, “Have you?”

  Touchy subject. Kelerin had lost plenty over his last two years as an upperclassman experimenting with Ren’s theories on applying WateRen principles toward Wave Whip combat, but his Prophet didn’t need to know any of that. Frankly, she wouldn’t be the one getting lashed if he messed up. “Just stay alert and watch my back.”

  “I’m guessing that’s a yes, then.”

  A who-do-you-think-you-are look crossed Kelerin’s face and he was about to voice those very sentiments when his Prophet quickly added, “Sorry, that didn’t come off sounding... I’m just gonna stop talking now... yeah - Oh, and you now have my Sight.”

  Kelerin would have preferred not to stop talking about it. She knew nothing about him and she shouldn’t be drawing conclusions from non-responses, even if they happen to be true, an inconvenient fact that only annoyed him
more. But there was no time to set this girl straight, so he grudgingly put the matter aside for later and opened up his senses to receive the Sight she had already begun offering him.

  Prophetic Sight created an intimate bond between Academic and Prophet. In addition to facilitating verbal communication between the two, a Prophet was also afforded the ability to expand her consciousness outside her Academic’s mind, actually seeing his surroundings as well as any energy-based Wave patterns flowing therefrom. To the Prophet, these Waves were seen in the mind’s eye as distinct patterns of luminescent light with colors ranging across the full expanse of the chromatic spectrum. Every pattern and every color had its own meaning, its own representative truth underlying the physical reality from whence it stemmed.

  Specifically when it came to the Waves of a Whip’s lash; where to the Academic these would appear as barely perceptible distortions of air, a Prophet actually saw the Waves themselves in vivid hues and complex geometric detail. A talented Academic might be able to predict attack-Wave behavior based on a critical viewing of an opponent’s movements as they generate lashes, but it wouldn’t be the same as actually seeing the Waves, feeling them. Not even close.

  This expanded sensory perspective of a Prophet could not be shared with her Academic directly, but the Prophet did have the ability to indirectly transfer the feelings her perspective invoked in the form of a sixth sense to her Academic’s subconscious. It’s what Prophets and Academics called Sight. With a Prophet’s Sight, an Academic, who had trained his mind to use this meta sense on an instinctive level, could feel the threat of incoming attacks, locate and attack targets of his own - both seen and unseen - all with exacting precision and precise timing.

  So the relationship between Academic and Prophet was very much symbiotic in nature. A Prophet’s deep meditative state allowed her to connect to Wave patterns in a far more profound way than her Academic counterpart could ever dream of doing, but it also limited her in how she was able to act upon that connection.