Exordium

by Tyson Jordan

  “So, have you finally lost it?” Janus quirked his brow and smiled. I forcibly returned his grin, and his demeanour did not change; he remained as relaxed and smiling as ever.

  “Well, I wouldn’t worry so much about that, especially not here.” I looked at him, sitting with his hands locked behind his head. Janus chuckled.

  “It’s when you’re normal in this time and place that you have a real problem.” It was enough to put my mind at some semblance of ease, at least for that moment, as I surmised that my definition of insanity was something much greater than his. I did not much want to talk about Innatus or Vaelryk or any of the strangeness in my life, yet I could hear the old dragon’s words, “It takes little effort to see you have difficulty in asking others for their aid.”

  “I feel like I’ve been asked to do something impossible, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to do it.”

  “You’re talking about Vaelryk, you mean? Or your father?”

  “It’s just … both of them. How can I possibly live up to that? In the end, my father … Cobalt Fortuna, he couldn’t beat Vaelryk, and we all know what he was. All it takes to make me run is the mention of Vaelryk’s name.” I fell back, shamefully, into the narrow chair near Janus’s computer, jostling the terminal and awakening it from its slumber. I paid it no mind.

  “You know, you’re not the only one who wants to run sometimes. Honestly, it’s probably the most sane response to all of this that I can think of, or anyone else.” Janus approached and placed his hand on my shoulder, and I looked up at him. He was strangely serious, his eyes locked with mine.

  “We all do it, Zircon. In one way or another. But in the end, I think what you need to do more than anything else is ask who you can be. You say you can’t be Cobalt? Fine! That’s great, even! It means you should be you instead. His shadow might hang over your head, but you can choose to walk out from under it.”

  I felt a tear roll down my cheek and I clenched my jaw, at once ashamed and powerfully feeling the scorn of my father. That scorn soon faded, however, as Janus smiled at me in reassurance, and gratitude overtook me.

  16

  Finding a Cause

  The three days that passed were uneventful, and although my time within the sandy titan ever loomed in the back of my mind, I was nonetheless grateful for a return to my earlier routine. Janus was there, smiling as ever, and I even found some rest each night.

  We walked together after a physical training session with Stannum that had left our bodies in a state of near ruin, and found ourselves in another atrium, fortunate to find a pair of adjacent seats beneath an ivory fountain. I leaned back in the chair, wincing at the pain in my arms, legs, and back, and exhaled slowly as my muscles relaxed. The sound of the falling water at my side was calming. My friend smiled contentedly as he stretched before following suit.

  “I like the water.” He spoke plainly, and I grinned.

  “Well, one would hope so. You are called Ocean Dwellers for a reason, aren’t you?”

  “I guess that’s about as simple as simple gets, isn’t it?” Janus reached into the pool behind us, lit by blue and lavender lights beneath its surface, and tousled his hair as if deep in thought. The water droplets left his head and floated through the air back to the fountain, and the fact that Janus could see the Ebb was plain to me. He grinned. “I have a real talent for this, you know. Runs in the family, actually, along with a few others that the old man has hinted at so far.”

  It was not an ability that I had ever previously considered. The water simply had little value for me outside of bathing and drinking, so the idea of seeing the Ebb was one that did not resonate with me. My father, of course, had seen the Bonds, just as Stannum could, and my time in the laboratory had revealed the Spheres to me at last, rendering me electrokinetic, and many of the stationed Sentries and Sentinels aboard the Guild could see the Waves, as made clear by the red thermokinetic armour.

  “You know, I’ve been wondering about something lately,” he said aloud, and I prompted him to continue.

  “Argenta Behemot—she really is something, isn’t she? I’ve watched a few of her fights in the Coliseum in my spare time, and all I have to say is wow.” His enthusiasm was somewhat muted, as though his thoughts and words did not match, and he added, “And it’s not just combat either. It’s across the board. She just keeps getting better and better, you know? Do you think it’s true what they say?”

  “And what’s that?” I spoke flatly, making my lack of interest in Argenta clear.

  Janus carried on, aware of my annoyance but unmoved by it, and asked, “You know, what they say about the Godsend. Do you think it’s her?”

  “No.” I looked to the wall far across the atrium, examining its white and impeccable surface for any flaw.

  “Well, that was about as brief as brief gets! For that matter, do you believe in the Godsend?” I could feel Janus’s eyes on me again, and he leaned closer, eager for deeper conversation. To say that I had little interest in the topic, however, was more than mere understatement. Faith in the gods, and especially in the Godsend, was a concept that I simply had no desire to understand.

  “No.” I spoke again, plainly, and Janus laced his fingers together behind his head, leaning back in his chair as he mused.

  “I guess it is a bit ridiculous, isn’t it? The idea that there’s a saviour coming for us. I suppose, though, that we do live in a ridiculous world, so would it really be so strange? I mean, there have been others, you know. Godsends, I mean, like that Erdeson who was famous twenty years ago. Orichalcum, I think?”

  I had read of Orichalcum, as all of us were required to do so, and he was a man of more than considerable exploit during the war. There were no real records of him personally, as was the case with my father, and instead his military efforts on Grand Ocean, Erde, and Rck’ Hara were recorded by the Guild for posterity, even though he himself was not a member of the Guild. Like so many of the other legends that we had been taught to emulate, his records abruptly ended one day, and did not continue.

  I sighed in loud exasperation, finally giving in to Janus’s prodding, and spoke. “What about him? Look, he was an extremely talented guy, I know. I get that. My father was the same way, but that doesn’t mean they were somehow sent by the gods to fix everything. We’re alone in this, and we always have been.”

  “All right, all right, I see you’re getting a little more testy than I would have liked.” Janus chuckled, and I glared at him momentarily before he returned to his earlier topic.

  “Did you hear that Argenta’s opponent, Rhodium Something-or-other, forfeited the match ahead of time? A lot of people are miffed, to be sure. Their convocation party was ruined.”

  “Really?” The mention of Argenta’s name again glazed my eyes; nonetheless, I had hoped to see the match despite my dislike of her, or rather, of the adulation that others gave to her so willingly and constantly.

  “Yeah, I guess Rhodium saw one too many clips of the supposed Godsend sending opponents straight to the infirmary. Thankfully, some very brave soul signed up almost immediately afterwards.” The thought left me perturbed, considering Argenta’s reputation.

  “Who?”

  “You did!” Janus laughed, flashing his teeth yet again. I blinked stupidly.

  “What?” I responded, dumbfounded.

  “You are. I signed you up before Stannum put us through the wringer.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope, no jokes this time!” The Ocean Dweller’s grin seemed fiercer than normal. I was completely motionless. My lungs filled with speeding, useless breath. Janus, my only friend, had somehow consigned me to misery and torment in the arena sands.

  “Why … why would you do that?” The words took great time to form in my shocked mind, and longer to reach my lips. My eyes were wide and unblinking.

  “Like I said, I’ve been doing some thinking lately, but I’m not too sure about things yet. If it turns out to be worthwhile, I’ll tell you after.�
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  “If there is an after!” Anxiety had gripped me, and now my words were jumbled together almost incomprehensibly.

  “Hey, if you’re scared to fight her, I won’t blame you. I’ll just take your name off the competitor list, then.” Briskly, he stood and began walking towards the exit, his head turned slightly back to hear my inevitable reply to the aggravating taunt.

  “Really? That’s supposed to get under my skin? That’s your best effort?” I hurried, catching up to him as he shrugged his shoulders in exaggerated fashion and smirked before departing altogether for his quarters. Baffled, I began journeying back to my own.

  17

  Invincible No More

  I rounded one corner followed by another, fuming over my predicament as I pushed my way through the congested halls and ignoring the aggravated grunts of surprise and irritation. What did he mean, doing some thinking lately? About what? Janus was damnably cryptic when he felt so inclined. After turning one final corner, I saw a man, dressed in white, stooped next to my door.

  Ferric’s face was wearied, more so than usual, and his tired eyes locked mine in place. I knew why he had come, at least in part, but I said nothing. He did not mince his words and did not waste any time.

  “You’re unwell, Fortuna.” I had no reply. I only reached past him and opened the door before walking past. He invited himself in and closed the door behind him, and I could feel his gaze behind me as I stood in the narrow space between the bed and my terminal, unsure how to end the encounter.

  “I looked into your history, you know. You’re one of Erde’s many orphans, but I’ve met only a few so traumatised.” The implication of weakness in his voice was somehow scathing in a way that only he could muster, and I turned to face him in immediate resentment.

  “They haven’t been through as much. They’re nothing like me.” It was an obvious answer to his concerns, yet Ferric remained leaning on his walking stick and unmoved.

  “And what have you been through?” His voice was soft but nonetheless demanding, and I gritted my teeth.

  “That’s none of your business,” I snapped.

  “No? Is it not my business,” Ferric continued to press me, “as your teacher, to be concerned for your wellbeing?” I glowered at him, my mind searching for any answer to my new predicament. I yearned for him to leave, so I said nothing more. He limped to my bedside and retrieved the Book of Kyrosya, which had remained in its earlier place, casually tossed aside.

  “If you will say nothing to me, then say nothing, but know that you can always speak to God.” The devout man handed me the dusty, cracked tome and gave a slight smile. My temper broke and I slapped the book out of his hands.

  “What god is that? A god of apathy? A god who watches his people burn?” I seethed.

  “He loves His people, and He hears our prayers.” The compassion in his voice wavered. Those words only fuelled my wretched memories, and I pushed forward.

  “Prayer? Right, like what happened in the specimen lab? You call that an answer?” A scowl formed on my instructor’s face, but I would not stop.

  “His means and thoughts are often beyond our comprehension.” It was an insufferable evasion, one that I had heard so many times before, even as a small child, and it served to infuriate me further.

  “Oh, his means! Like promising divine worldly protection and then watching billions erase? Is this how he loves us? What, is he dead or just quiet?”

  “Hold your tongue, blasphemer!” A too heavy and coarse hand struck me across the face before I could react. I staggered backwards, surprised by his immense strength. The taste of liquid metal faintly caressed my tongue.

  A mournful look spread across his face as he said, “I came because I care, because you … you remind me of a son who has been … gone for some time, and I hope to dissuade you from destroying yourself and the others around you.” His words were hollow to me. They were nothing like the words of my father, and I grimaced.

  “I hope that you will listen to His voice—”

  “Shut up. Get out.”

  Stricken, Ferric turned from me and left without speaking any further. I turned my vision to the book that now rested on the floor, open and lopsided, and shoved it aside with my foot before collapsing onto my bed, my eyes never moving from the metallic ceiling.

  I had no desire to attend classes the next day, which I spent locked away in my room. The book remained in its corner where I left it, its pages open and bent, and I had no desire to even approach it. In a mixture of boredom and anger, I began to review footage of Argenta Behemot as she clashed with one opponent after the next in the Coliseum, and my stress only magnified.

  Hers was a style of counterattack and cold, ruthless efficiency. There was no unnecessary flair to her movements or needless acrobatics, but a fluid and elegant language spoken with katana and fire. Improving endlessly, she crushed one opponent after another, regardless of their race or tactics. To call her skill mere reflex was to denounce the beauty of the dancing blade, the beauty of watching her control her opponents entirely, almost mathematically. Jealousy curdled within me.

  The thought of withdrawing from the match was a constant pervasion in my mind. It was an option that was plain to see. Doing so would make me hated by the many thousands of entertainment-starved Initiates, but a lifetime of social isolation rendered me immune to their opinions. I sat at my terminal, staring at the document that Janus had so carefully completed with my personal, allegedly protected, information.

  The fear of Argenta’s elegant swordplay was overshadowed completely by Ferric’s words. My teacher had always been a man of faith, one who accepted the world around him as the will of a god, and with so many praising Argenta as the Godsend, as a symbol of that will, I found my reason to fight.

  It was cruel, yet it was of great necessity to me. I would fight Argenta and, for all of her remarkable talent, I would persevere all the same and win, to bring Ferric to his senses and shatter the blind faith that so many had followed to their end. I frowned deeply at the thought of a religion that had somehow persisted after its lies had been so thoroughly exposed by Erasure, and I could not fathom the actions or faith of my teacher, and both the young and the old who pressed on with him.

  The greatest of these lies, the Godsend, was something that could not be accepted or even tolerated. So many living their lives aboard the Guild had placed their faith in a saviour who was both absent and, even if he did once live, cared not for them. I would take the Godsend from these millions and, in doing so, I would force them to see that there would be no salvation given, but only salvation earned. Staring at the combat registration form on the terminal, I could feel the indomitable will of my father swelling within me.

  I would teach them all to stand, proud and alone.

  18

  The Time Has Arrived

  What few days I had before my battle passed slowly, tingling my nerves more intensely as I thought of Argenta and the struggle that was to come. Janus was there to offer support, and when that fell upon my unresponsive ears, he followed with sarcasm and assured me that my few worldly possessions would be well kept after the match.

  I did not attend my classes during that time, and instead rebounded between my quarters and one of many physical training centres in my residential block. When my mind wandered to Argenta’s precise defeat of her every opponent, I appeared in a nearly empty training centre, grasping a broadsword and practising against holographic opponents. The exercise did me little good, as my clumsiness was ever more apparent, and I returned to my room only to feel greater anxiety.

  The time had arrived. I knew the way to the Coliseum well, although the usual anticipation of walking there had been replaced by uncertainty, and then dread. Janus had taken a keen interest in this before, and I wondered what the Ocean Dweller had wanted to see, but these thoughts only added to my dismay. I made a vague and vain effort to console myself, to focus on my task and its importance. Everything will make sense soon enough.


  I arrived at the Coliseum entrance and a tall, slender official with a craggy face greeted me with a forced smile. He made some small talk as he showed me down one of the halls towards the seating sections, and raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise when I told him of my upcoming battle with Argenta. We changed course then, walking down a narrower corridor that stemmed from the broad and bright entryways.

  There was great clamour and cheering that reverberated through this hall that had been lit with suffuse yellow light. A match had just ended, a preliminary battle, that had given the mob its taste of violence to whet its appetite momentarily. The noise lost its focus and volume soon after, and I knew that my time was all too near. The man with the craggy face offered some slight assurance, and I squared my jaw, disliking what he had seen in my face.

  A narrow strip of light at the end of the hall revealed itself, and we entered. It was a dimly lit chamber, beset on every side by storage lockers and racks that had been labelled in simple terms. “Whatever you need to fight will be in here. You have about ten minutes. Hit that button when you’re good to go, and good luck to you, kid.” The attendant left me promptly.

  It was a small museum of war, its walls covered with weapons of all makes and sizes. Black, heavy trunks rested on the floor, holding rudimentary armour of scarred steel and patched leather. Apart from the entrance, there was an ominous door on the room’s opposite wall, the doorway to the arena sands.

  Since my Initiate’s uniform was little more than flimsy grey cloth, I changed immediately. I was fortunate to find a pair of tough brown pants, more probably the previous attire of some craftsman than any warrior, and a much newer shirt, black and sleeveless, made from recognisably engineered weaves. I covered my upper arms with a short-sleeved jacket, a silvery bridge between the old and the new, and felt slightly reassured, but there was more to be done.