Ben had left Freztad barely after dawn’s first light following the meeting. Even after flying to and from Svaldway so many times, he still couldn’t get over his astonishment of humans in flight. The Ænærian airships the Miners Guild had commandeered after the Battle of Svaldway proved to be an invaluable resource. It had been able to carry Ben to and from the Grand Vault and the Penteric Alliance many times over the past two moons. The solar-technology combined with pressure-filled blimp made it an extremely efficient vessel that handled long trips quite well, and it rarely required repairs.
Now that Svaldway had its very first farm, with a surplus of ripening produce filling their kitchens, none of the locals really seemed to know what to do. It was funny to Ben how after years of hardship, people suddenly falter when exposed to the first sight of reprieve.
Ben slurped down another stew and picked the bones from the fish on his plate. He’d just cleared his fifth meal of the night.
“It’s a good thing you brought these people extra food, you glutton,” Mandi joked.
“I’m a growing boy,” Ben said, patting his belly.
“These abilities of yours better be as impressive as you say if they really require that much fuel.”
He sat up from his seat and stretched his sore limbs. “You’ll get to see soon enough.” He didn’t mind speaking of his powers so out in the open like this. Aside from finishing training late in the day, he also liked eating late because it meant few people were still up and in the hall. He figured most already knew of his powers or at least guessed at them, seeing as he would stay in the Vault nearly all day every day and come out looking tired and worn. He simply wasn’t comfortable telling too many people the truth of it. He’d had enough of dirty looks growing up that he couldn’t bear any more. Not now, anyway.
The next few days he spent less time on physical training and more on studying his enemies. Mimir had spent much of his time since Ben first entered the Vault attempting to restore his memory. Mimir had found it difficult to explain, but it was even harder for Ben to understand. It seemed that something happened to Mimir a long time ago that restricted him from accessing certain parts of his memory. He could form new ones without issue but appeared to have some sort of mechanical equivalent to a mental block over anything related to his purpose for creation. He knew very little about the Enochians outside of what Ben’s father had told him.
Ben lunged forward at his first foe for today’s training session, slashing through its body with his glowing green sword, the Voidsweeper. The enemy flickered and vanished. The next one was behind him. Like the others Ben had fought, its body was translucent and absent of any color save the shimmering blue light making up its body. He’d been fighting them for weeks and still, his heart raced at the sight of these faceless creatures covered in lean muscle and standing a head over Ben at what must been at least seven feet tall.
Spinning on the ball of his foot, Ben caught his foe’s hand as it tried to land a blow against his blindside. Ben heard its clattering feet well before he could see the foe coming. Having fought about twenty so far today, he’d picked up some of their habits. He knew an attack would come in from his right, where he was missing an eye. He stepped back, dodging the swish of air behind the enemy’s blade. He pulled the attacker toward him and stabbed it through the chest.
The first wave of faceless foes came in at Ben armed with only their fists which were nearly quadruple the strength of an ordinary man’s. The second wave had been armed with sungs as Ben. Each shot was absorbed by the Voidsweeper’s broken black metal blade and used to fuel its bright green aura that could be used to extend its reach and unleash blasts of its own at his enemies.
This final wave had been less consistent. Each soldier was different, not only in their armaments but in their abilities, too. The first Ben had defeated possessed amazing strength—but the Voidsweeper in Ben’s hands was faster, ultimately overcoming the foe’s brawn. The second had incredible speed, and Ben probably wouldn’t have caught it in time had he not predicted where it would attack from. The third attacker held the glowing orange sword, quite similar to the one Darius used. Unlike his friend, this assailant also had a large, translucent shield that emitted a yellow glow.
The green aura surrounding Ben’s blade was fading, and Ben could tell the shield was sapping its energy. Strange, Ben thought. I haven’t gone up against anything yet that could absorb energy faster than the Voidsweeper. He squeezed the hilt of his sword with both hands, and the green aura vanished. Ben sheathed his sword and darted towards the attacker. As he ran, Ben raised his arms to his sides, flexed his chest, took a deep breath, and clapped his hands together as if to crush the very air between his fingers. A shockwave struck suddenly like lightning and just as loud. It landed against the bright blue enemy’s glowing yellow shield. The force shot the assailant across the room, slamming it against the wall, the shield clanging against the hard floor. Still running, Ben redrew his sword. As soon as the broken blade touched the attacker’s orange sword, the Voidsweeper roared to life as the green glow rekindled. Ben parried a futile swing by his foe before landing the fatal blow into its side. Like the others, its body flickered and then vanished.
The final foe had stayed in the background as Ben fought and defeated the other three. It did not even step toward Ben until the last of his enemies had been defeated. Its heavy feet echoed across the hall. Unlike the rest, this one wasn’t a mere blue shade of a man. Instead, it looked almost entirely human. It wore no armor, only a long, white robe. Its skin was amber, tightly enveloping finely toned muscle. It had long blond hair that reached the small of its back, and its eyes looked like two crystals glimmering the colors of a rainbow. Clasped between its hands was what appeared to be an exact replica of the Voidsweeper—only it wasn’t missing the final third of its blade.
The final attacker clenched its hands around its weapon’s handle, and a scarlet flame erupted around the black metal blade, extending the sword’s reach by another two feet. The flames danced around the sword until the attacker drew it back. Ben’s foe then spun in a semi-circle forward, launching the red flames toward Ben. He leaped over the blast but found it had followed him into the air. He blocked the blast with the Voidsweeper, hoping to absorb the energy. He had no such luck. Instead, the contact between the green aura of Ben’s sword and the red flame from his enemy’s resulted in a massive explosion. Ben was knocked out of the air, his enemy pushed back against the nearest wall, shielding its eyes from the bright light of the volatile impact.
Ben landed with a somersault and retrieved his weapon. He launched his own wave of green energy, hoping his foe would take the bait. It retaliated with its own scarlet blast. This time, Ben was ready for the explosion. He picked up the glowing yellow shield and hid behind it. It absorbed the impact of the explosion, allowing Ben to continue moving toward his opponent. As his foe covered its eyes from the bright explosion, Ben didn’t hesitate to pierce his enemy’s heart with his sword.
That’s because it was easy to fatally strike his opponents when they were mere holograms. Ben knew that when the wars came, he wouldn’t be able to do it as easily. Killing was something he never wanted to do. The only life he had purposefully ended was his father’s, and that was only after learning that his mind was merely trapped within his body—ready to move on. Even then, Ben had had an entire day with his father before death finally caught up with him. The act of looking an enemy in the eyes and watching the life fade away was something Ben hoped he could avoid; in case he couldn’t, he practiced against the monstrous Enochian holograms.
In the 23rd sector of the Grand Vault, Ben had finished his final training with Mimir before saying farewell. The sector was divided into three units: the living quarters, where Ben slept and ate most of his meals; the central processing unit chamber in which Mimir’s consciousness existed and where Ben’s father had remained in suspended animation during his final years in the Vault; and lastly, the training arena. The arena was by far
the biggest section of the entire Vault—it was 4,500 square feet of concrete floor, holographic projectors on the walls and ceiling, and a motion block for Ben to review his sessions. The room also had intercoms and cameras connected to Mimir, so he could give Ben directions and feedback.
The initial training began as soon as Rose had finished healing in the restoration tub, a crystal bath filled with glowing blue water that repaired nearly everything—from the most minor cut to the genetic damage caused by the sun’s harmful radioactive rays. These terms were still difficult for Ben to get used to, but Mimir did his best to educate him on the science and terminology used by the humans of the Old Days and the Enochians alike. However, now Ben shared some of his father’s memories. This had happened inadvertently after the mind-meld when Ben had first entered the Vault. Ever since then he experienced flashbacks of events in Alphonse’s life through clouded dreams and memories which were not his own. It had all helped Ben to understand some of the information more easily because Alphonse had been quite knowledgeable about the technology used in the Old Days.
A normal person likely wouldn’t have been able to handle the cognitive disassociations, but as Mimir had so often reminded him, Ben was anything but normal.
The most difficult concept for Ben to grasp was that of the Enochians. Despite being created by them, Mimir seemed to know very little about the Enochians, and most of what he taught Ben was based on reports given to Mimir by Alphonse—and Alphonse learned it from Ben’s mother, Jean, who was an Enochian herself.
The holograms Ben had trained against were merely recreations Mimir had concocted based on his vague memories and the descriptions are given to him by Alphonse. Ben had no way of knowing if the holograms were even close to accurate, but they were the best he had to train against.
“Mimir,” Ben said, after catching his breath. Normally, Ben barely broke a sweat when he fought. But the overuse of his abilities took a lot of energy out of him and left him short of breath and drenched. “I’m heading to the shower. Then we can review the fight before I head back to the village.”
There was a whirring sound of gears and fans spinning. “Quite fine, Benedict. I shall see you shortly. You did well today. Your father would be proud.” Mimir spoke with an echo and screech to his inhuman voice.
The cold water steamed against Ben’s warm body. The Vault’s lower chambers where Ben trained were only just above freezing temperatures, yet he’d been relieved to be showered by the cold water. His body expended a tremendous amount of energy during training, all released as the heat trapped within his thick, multi-layered training suit. Since Ben fought against mere projections of light, he had to wear a suit that allowed him to interact with them. The suit covered his entire body as a single article and allowed him to feel the impact of his opponents’ attacks. It was a difficult concept for Ben to understand, but Mimir explained that the interior of the suit had signals connected to his nervous system, allowing him to experience the full pain of a punch, fracture, or even complete evisceration. Fortunately, he had only experienced the last one twice, and that was early in his training. Now he completed every session with barely more than the feeling of a broken wrist.
“Okay, Mimir, give it to me straight. How’d I do?” Ben asked as he dried himself off from the shower and walked to his wardrobe.
“Quite well, Benedict. However, it may not be enough.”
“Well, of course, it’s not. I still have nearly a year’s worth of training left.”
The electronic fans hummed and overhead speakers of Mimir’s voice crackled. The sound of a mechanical man thinking, the way a man squints and strokes his chin as he ponders a concept. Without a body, Mimir had no such tells, but after spending more time with Mimir than other people this past moon, Ben had picked up on the being’s equivalent to body language.
“I am receiving a signal.”
“What does that mean? Something to do with that other project you’ve been working on?”
“No, not that. That will still take quite some time.”
Good, Ben thought. He didn’t like what Mimir had been doing between training sessions. He had to keep it a secret for now—especially from Rose. He shuddered at the mere thought of it.
“If not a signal from that, then what is it?” Ben asked.
“I believe another Vault has been opened.”
Ben’s stomach dropped, and the color faded from his face. “I’m supposed to be the only one who can open them. How could this happen?”
“I am not sure. We know there is a Vault in Ænæria that Julius somehow opened. I am still working to determine how he had entered that Vault, for I do not remember getting an alert about it. In fact, I do not remember ever getting such alerts. Perhaps it is another symptom of my memory loss.”
“Then are you even sure one was opened?”
“It does not make sense to me. This feeling I have—the alert I received—there is no other explanation for it. Somehow, I just know. Go to a monitor. I can show you the location.”
Ben rushed to the nearest motion block, and Mimir turned on the screen. A map of the world appeared, depicted as blue outlines over a black background. A green dot blipped by one of the northernmost landmasses. Svaldway and the Grand Vault. Another dot did the same, this one yellow and by the eastern coast of a continent on the left of the screen.
“Based on the maps provided me by both you and your father, I believe this Vault is near a land you know as Ney.”
Ben’s eyes widened at the mention of Ney. “I’ve met people from Ney. They call themselves Orks. They told me if I ever wanted to go there, I could present a fang to its people and I would be granted entry.”
“An interesting custom indeed. Do you trust these Orks?”
“I don’t know. I know nothing about them. But if there’s a Vault there, and it was opened, then I need to go.”
“What about your training? If this is an Enochian, I do not know that you will be ready.”
“I fared well enough against the holograms today. Maybe I don’t need a whole year to train.”
“Do not be hasty, Benedict. Your abilities are great, but so too are the consequences of using them without proper control. Be sure to keep the Voidsweeper with you.”
“Do you really think it’ll make that big of a difference? You told me my mother gave it to my father. Doesn’t that imply it’s Enochian in origin? It’s pretty similar to the solar technology that the Ænærians have.”
Mimir hummed, longer than usual this time. “The metal which makes up the blade is nothing I have ever known, and there is technology hidden within the hilt which is far more complex than that of a sung. Although an Enochian gave it to your father, I do not think we have any other reason to believe it is Enochian in origin. She gave it to Alphonse for a reason. Perhaps she thought it would help him against her people.”
“I understand why you gave one of the holograms a sword like Darius’s, but what about the yellow shield and red Voidsweeper?”
“The truth of the matter is that we do not know what the Enochians possess. We only have an idea based solely upon technology revealed from other Vaults and information your father had helped me recover. Unfortunately, those are both rather lacking. You must be prepared for anything and learn to fight in new ways. You must be versatile and ready for the unknown.”
Ben picked up the sword and held out it in front of him. Its black metal hardly shined in the bright room, as if it were absorbing the very light touching it. The blade bore no signs of wear, no scratches on it as the hilt did. He thought it should have shown more signs of use. Instead, the only damage the blade revealed were the jagged edges where the blade had been broken when Alphonse had last used it.
He felt himself at a crossroads. The point of training now was to prepare for a fight against the Enochians as best as he could. He hadn’t figured he may have to fight them sooner. Maybe an Enochian didn’t open the Vault. Maybe it’s something else entirely. After all, some Vaults
seemed to be opened without Enochian blood—like the one in Ænæria which brought them solar technology—and the broken Vault his father had been in and heard the distress call from Mimir.
“Is it possible this is another distress signal?” Ben asked. “Like the one my father thought you sent?”
“Perhaps,” Mimir said after a short hum. “They are somewhat similar. That signal had been coordinates to the Grand Vault. This signal has prompted me to download the Vault’s location. However, I still do not know where the signal your father heard came from. I do not remember sending it. I once thought your mother had been the signal’s originator since it brought your parents together. Your father insisted she had been answering it too. My memory—it is simply too foggy with these things.”
An idea sprung into Ben’s mind. Something he didn’t dare hope for. “If this is a distress signal, then do you think my mother sent it?”
“It is possible. Neither your father nor I knew exactly what happened to her. He just knew that she had to leave, presumably to go back to her homeworld. As I have said before, I do not think Enochians can survive long on this planet just yet.”
Even with Mimir’s wealth of knowledge, they still knew far too little about their enemy and the Vaults themselves. Yet the risk of ignoring this signal—whether it was the opening of a Vault or not—was far too great. The Enochians shouldn’t arrive for nearly two years, so the risk of there being one in Ney was low. But if a Vault was opened, then how? Fear overcame him at the thought of needing to face the enemy so soon. But if they were already here, then he needed to do something about it. At the back of his mind, Ben also fought the urge of hoping that his mother had been the one responsible for the signal. Maybe he could finally meet her.
“I’m sorry, Mimir. I have to go.”
The Heir of Ænæria Page 9