Endless Online: Oblivion's Promise

by M. H. Johnson

  With a fierce grin Val did just that, and their battle was joined. And for all that Val found himself stumbling back from a well-placed thrust more than once, both Zorn and double Zwerch scored upon the experienced mercy multiple times before they called their practice session done.

  Halvar took off his helm with a soft chuckle. "You have a way with that blade, boy, that I can tell."

  Val smiled. "I trained fairly diligently with it all through high school. I was at least as athletic as the so-called 'jocks,' though I didn't bother with any sports save wrestling, and I did get penalized a couple times during matches for using 15th-century techniques. It was strange, though. The minute I showed the coaches copies of the manuscripts my HEMA instructors used, they actually looked at me with a certain measure of respect, calling me a scholar of the oldest traditions, though they still insisted I use their own variants if I wanted to score points." He grinned. "It was pretty cool when the assistant coach showed up at HEMA practice one day. We sort of became friends after that."

  Val's grin faded. "And he never once accused me of being a Darklord."

  Halvar's gaze turned reflective. "Fair enough, Val." Silence for some moments, as he helped himself to a dipper of water.

  "What you need to understand, Val, is as skilled as you think you are, had we truly been certain that you were a threat, you'd already be dead."

  Utter silence, their gazes locked.

  "That's supposed to reassure me?"

  Halvar chuckled. "You didn't ask for a blow by blow detail of how it would go down. Good. The fact is, we like you. You seem like a good kid with both gifts and a serious disability, and we can't help but feel a bit protective of you. Also, you never once flinched from facing horrors, fighting beside us in the Underdark. That means a hell of a lot. But at that moment, lost in your Shadowmind skill, you really did move and flow like a Highlord's pet assassin. The fears Elise raised couldn't be totally dismissed. Neither could the possibility that you were just a good kid who happened to be blessed with a killer's gifts. A kid who had fallen in love, and put aside that love, just to help out a bunch of near strangers who had given him nothing but grief for the first day or two. We respected that, Val. Even in the midst of her terror, Elise knew there was a chance she was wrong. So we geared for retreat, with all our prizes vulnerable, rather than risk killing a child who had only ever been a friend."

  Val lowered his head, a maelstrom of emotions roiling in his gut with those words.

  Halvar gave Val an approving pat. "And when you tossed Elise one of the deadliest tools known to man as a gift, putting the very weapon Elise feared in her hands, you claimed the board with that move. Illiterate you may be, but you're no fool."

  Val shrugged. "I was planning on giving her one even before last night happened. She knows how to use those things better than I, I'm guessing, no matter what her rank was on the psionicist totem pole. We could have trained together, readying ourselves to take on any foe. And this way, if she was ever challenged to the equivalent of a Highlord duel, or needed to fight for her honor, she'd be better prepared for victory. Practice with me could only improve her odds."

  Halvar gazed at Val for some long moments. Val swallowed, suddenly worried he had said something off yet again.

  "That's an impressive insight, Val, for someone so new to our land. I'm curious, how did you realize the importance of dueling?"

  Val shrugged. "Even in the ancient cultures of my own world, nobles, sometimes even freemen, could duel to vindicate themselves in court. And the greater one's rank in a warlike culture, the more likely one can use martial prowess to avoid the less savory punishments. It just seemed to me like Elise had been groomed for a far different life than she had been forced into. I can only imagine that mastering the Psiblade might give her a chance to vindicate herself."

  The giant mercenary gave an approving nod. "It is not nearly so simple as that, of course. But you're right about one thing. It can only benefit her to master the weapon of her class." He got up then, gazing thoughtfully at Val. "I enjoyed the bout, Val. There is something pleasing about the feel of a Phoebian dueling weapon in my hand. Perhaps because it is as close as I will ever get to wielding a Psiblade." Halvar grinned. "Now go clean up and refresh yourself. Gregor would like your help in his laboratory, and Sten's made breakfast. Have some, if you're hungry."

  Val chuckled softly, still not sure what to make of this eccentric crew, but more than happy to take a hint and wash off. Contrary to esoteric rules written by game masters who had never so much as camped, many armors were fine for sleeping in, especially dwarven armor. It was not the height of comfort, but it was quite feasible as long as one was in warm, soft bedding to prevent chill and pinching. But to be fair, at this point he really did stink.

  "Be careful, Val, those things are priceless!" Gregor said sometime later as Val frowned and brushed him away. He well knew how precious the forceshields and remaining Psiblade were, and didn't need Gregor buzzing about his ear like a bee. Not when he was trying to feel out the intricate matrices involved; the taste, feel, and flow of arcane and psionic fields meshing so intricately... there!

  He smiled, finding the Valorium Elementium alignments almost fully intact, like before. In each of these artifacts it had been arcane surges, Val suspected, that had knocked the nexus off alignment, Val somehow sensing with his newly discovered True Artifice skill the correct way to harmonize the Valorium matrices so as to resonate back in true time once more, the nexus now recalibrated and repaired.

  No mastered tome or complex algorithms necessary, for him it was as intuitive as solving a complex puzzle, or finding the one true path through a mind maze. Though time-consuming, sometimes draining, there was a true sense of exhilaration when it all clicked together, as it did for both shields and blade.

  Congratulations! After risking your psyche and the friends around you, tinkering with ancient artifacts harnessing energies that only the most brilliant or foolish would attempt to catalyze, you have achieved Greater Artifice Rank 2. Well done!

  Val grimaced, suddenly wondering just how foolish he had been, messing about with weapons that projected voidal rifts like sword blades. But the twinge of guilt couldn't compare to the exhilaration he felt as the second Psiblade come to life in his hands. Nearly four feet of utter darkness surrounded by a shimmering field of violet light projected from a fourteen-inch hilt. More than capable of cutting through any substance, any forcefield, reality itself, it seemed. He gazed at the crackling light that seemed to surround the shaft of darkness, wondering if it was to keep the null field from sucking in any more of reality than what it cut through.

  Val allowed himself a bleak smile, slowly waving the blade around the lab, careful to touch nothing, not even a suddenly terrified looking Gregor. For all that the hum of sci-fi blades in the movies seemed more for dramatic effect than anything else, it made sense if the blade were somehow eating the very air, and he was hearing the crackle of atoms torn from their orbits an instant before they were sent spiraling into what was, for all intense and purposes, the micro-thin event horizon of some fourth dimensional black hole.

  Val swallowed, relaxing his mental pressure upon the blade, feeling his psionic reserves return, suddenly getting a sense of just how terrible and deadly a weapon it was that he held.

  "Gregor, are you okay?" Val asked, realizing that the wizened little man hadn't even scolded him for activated the blade in his lab.

  Blinking madly, gulping air like a fish, Gregor finally found his tongue. "What the hell were you doing, Val? You know not to activate a contained rift in here! I thought you were going to kill me after all," he admitted in a much smaller voice.

  "What, kill my favorite alchemical buddy? I wouldn't dream of it! Who would teach me new formulae then?"

  Gregor rolled his eyes. "Alright. I see you've brought yet more treasures back from utter ruin. Congratulations and enjoy. Now leave me to my potions!"

  Val grinned. "Enjoy your Alchemy, Gregor. But
before I go..."

  "Yes?"

  "Can you tell me how to activate these forceshields?"

  The smaller man rolled his eyes and shooed him out the door. "Ask Elise, she knows better than I."

  And that he did.

  It seemed that she had been waiting for him, currently geared in a shimmering padded battlesuit made of some exotic fiber he did not recognize.

  She dipped her head, saluting him with a practice blade, medium-sized round shield in her off hand, eyes widening at what he carried.

  "So, you actually managed to fix them?"

  "I did."

  She nodded solemnly. "Let me show you how they work."

  Val handed her one, gazing carefully at her. He saw the way her brow furrowed, all but felt the surge and tingle of Psions flowing into the shield, seeing in that instant which of the myriad paths her surge of will had taken, sensing the same path available within the matrix of his shield as well.

  Basic forcefield activated. Thirty Psions reserved.

  "Alright, Val, I'm going to try to explain how to activate the shield. It might take a while, but in a few lessons you should at least be able to..." Perfect violet eyes widened, gazing upon Val's circular field of force, extending a foot on all sides from the handle containing the matrix, an intricately crafted bar of Elementium and Valorium of exquisite and exceedingly practical design.

  "I see you understand the way of it already," she breathed. "Not that I should be surprised."

  Val smiled. "I could sense several ways of using it, but realizing how precarious my repairing the Psiblades had been, I didn't want to catalyze the shield without seeing how you did it first."

  Elise frowned. "The Psiblades we recovered are dangerous. Relics of a very... savage time. But priceless, for all that. It is good that you understand how perilous a tool they are. Hopefully, it will inspire you to appreciate the discipline of the fighting style we embrace in this age. But there is only one way of using this shield, Val."

  Val shrugged, forgoing the point.

  Elise nodded, as if that was the end of it, handing Val a long steel blade with a rolled back tip and blunted edges. Val blinked and frowned, finding the length and balance much like the light side-swords favored by sword and rotella fencers seeking to master the Italian school traditions of the 16th century.

  "I am given to understand that you found my blade quite useful while in the Underdark. This gladdens me, Val. But you will find that the art a Highlord favors is far more eloquent than the crude cleaving blows that serve us so well when forced to battle with lesser weapons." She saluted Val with her blade, and Val did the same.

  She nodded at his balanced stance, leading with the shield, sword point on line, ready to thrust or slice as the opportunity presented itself. He was skilled with blade and buckler, and had spent one summer learning classic rapier fencing. Still, he had the sense that Elise's style wouldn't mirror either of those, and he was right.

  Her approach was cautious. Cautious enough that he did not sense her sudden intent to close until it was too late, springing forward to crash her forceshield against his own, pivoting her waist, Val somehow sensing her will also pushing against his own...

  -2 Psion. Test of Wills engaged. You are suffering from surprise and unfamiliarity, double moderate penalty. Test of Wills failed! Elise has displaced your forceshield with ease!

  ...lurching back as his shield was smashed into his face, grunting as the spring steel tip of her blade smacked hard against his armor. He felt the sting of it even so.

  Val looked up from the ground. Elise's eyes all but glowed, the smallest satisfied smile upon her lips. "You will need to do better than that, Val, if you seek one day to find your place amongst the lords that have claimed this world as their own."

  Val chuckled ruefully. "I think you're right, Elise. Nice thrust. Not quite like a rapiersman, closer to an arming sword in use, but that spring and pivot were quite effective."

  Elise gave a satisfied nod. "I'm not quite sure what your exotic terminology means, but I can tell you learned at least the basics of the fighting forms as a child. This is good. It will make the training, well, not easier, but smoother, perhaps. Now let me show you the various guards and wards you will be expected to have mastered before you dare challenge for even the meagerest scraps that your gift will allow you." She smirked. "You're lucky you have us as your allies, Val. Were we anyone else, you'd be all too easy to take advantage of with your lack of training, or even basic literacy."

  Val groaned. "Yes, I know I'm a complete idiot compared to this world full of genetically enhanced geniuses. So let's train me at something I can actually get better at. Like your style of swordplay."

  Elise's gaze hardened. "Very well, Val. But don't think I have forgotten my own commitment to teach you basic literacy. No ward under my care is going out into the world vulnerable as an illiterate child."

  Val swallowed, oddly touched by her words, for all that the night before she had gazed at him as if he were cold death coming for her soul. And before he could think of anything to say, she had already struck, feinting with her shield before slamming into him, her blade cracking against his knee and retreating before his own blade could graze even her shimmering suit.

  "You have to do better than that, Val. Far better."

  Val winced, spending a moment or two flexing his knee before nodding his head once more. He demanded a smile from his lips, his frustration turning to an odd sort of satisfaction, determined to learn what he could, to better himself before this woman who was reading him so perfectly.

  Countering his every move.

  Knowing just when to strike, the moment he was vulnerable between the beats.

  She tangled his blade while striking with her own, and always her shield beat his aside an instant before she made the killing blow.

  Always, she knew just when to lean back or twist aside, never failing to counter his blade an instant before striking him with her own.

  It was a long afternoon, and Val felt his cheeks flushing hot, feeling as humiliated as he had ever been in any martial contest.

  And he hadn't let himself get distracted by Halvar quietly chuckling or Gregor's snarky comments as the day had progressed, even Sten's beaming smile for his girl, for all that his nod to Val was friendly enough. Always, Val matched gazes with the violet-eyed beauty staring so coldly back at him, ever trying to get a sense of her moves, her habits, her tells.

  It didn't help a bit.

  She had run him in circles, striking and harrying, and not once did she fall for his tricks, or do anything but smile at his attempts to catch her in a feint. He had failed to connect with even a single blow.

  Not once.

  It was almost as if she could read his mind.

  He smiled up at her, dusting himself off as he rose once more. "Thank you for the lesson, Elise. I think I forgot humility a long, long time ago."

  Elise's gaze was almost sad. "I think, Val, that the lessons we have to start with are far more basic than fencing. I wanted to start with this, because this plays to your strengths. I had hoped that you had some natural wards in place, but I see now that you don't."

  Val swallowed and lowered his head.

  "We will start your remedial training tomorrow. Be ready."

  Val found his mind in a daze that night, analyzing the battle from every angle, amazed at how well Elise had overpowered his shield with her own, every time. He resolved to learn whatever he could from her, even as he felt sleep gently wash over him, eager for the day to come.

  And what started out as a week filled with wondrous possibility soon became an exercise in agony.

  Val cried out and stumbled back, nauseous with sudden pain,

  Elise's pitiless voice washing over him. "You have to try harder, Val. I couldn't even feel your surge!"

  Val took a ragged breath. It was the third time her own surge had sent him reeling, and he was dizzier and sicker than he dared show. "I'm doing my best."

&
nbsp; "It sure as hell isn't good enough. Not if you want to survive out in the real world. Try harder!"

  Val grimaced and nodded, forcing himself to his feet once more, blue eyes locking once more upon pitiless violet. He did his best to envision the mental dagger Elise said was the most basic of all Psi attacks, and that somewhat like sword and shield, the metaphor she chose for him, his goal was to thrust with the blade even as she parried with an iron-hard sense of ego. Indomitable will and spirit, to be both aware of one's environment in its entirety while simultaneously infused with a sense of oneself that transcended everyone and everything within it. Mindward. The most basic of Psionicist disciplines.

  A mindset utterly alien to Val's own. Near the opposite of what came so naturally to him with Shadowmind.

  So too, Elise had explained that there should be deeper resistance, an inherent insight, a neural network of constant self-actualization and awareness that transcended moment to moment thought, and thus was able to resist Mind Dagger's force. Only the youngest children could be seriously harmed by this attack. At least, such was the case for everyone except him, it seemed.

  Elise's gaze hardened. "I'm waiting, Val."

  Mind Dagger failed! Despite constant diligence and effort, you have once again failed to make use of the most basic of all Highlord disciplines!

  Val swallowed, clenching back tears of frustration. He was not a failure, he would get this!

  He cried out, flung to the ground, unable generate even the most rudimentary defense. Elise's Mind Dagger tore right through him, encountering no resistance, her basic attack cutting through his mind like a knife.

  "Pathetic, Val! Is this all you're capable of? Terrifying me half to death, wearing the face of a killer, and more vulnerable to psychic attacks than the lowest of serfs? How dare you insult me like this! How dare you insult yourself!"