Cartlidge: Rise of the Imperfect Flame (4 page)

I made sure that her gaze was in another direction,
then
leapt from the tree. I landed loudly on my feet. A
light flew over my head, screeching as it reacted with the air,
then
crashed into the far wall. The woman swore in
Rovanekren. I raised myself over the rock and fired a few rounds. She hid
behind a tree,
then
fired another shot towards me. I
sprinted away from the rock moments before the shot hit. The shot reacted
violently,
then
exploded, sending me forward into the
ground. I saw the figure of my opponent and fired another round. She twisted
and fell over. I rose to my feet and readied myself. The match hadn’t been
called yet, so the shot wasn’t considered “fatal.” I quietly moved into a
position where I could see the woman. She had disappeared, leaving only the
launcher. After disabling the launcher, I climbed the adjacent tree and scanned
for my opponent, holding myself steady with my free hand. Deathly silence
filled the arena. A branch twitched. Something whistled through the air and
knocked me out of the tree. The fall stole my ability to breath. I gasped for
air and, after a moment, forced myself to breath properly. A sharp, hot pain
filled my shoulder. One of her tomahawks had embedded itself in me, just
between my collarbone and shoulder. Trapezius, I think? My last health class
was almost three months ago. The pain was localized to the wound, which now
oozed warm blood, but any attempts to move my arm resulted in jolts of pain shooting
through the arm and most of my torso. I fought the pain enough to draw my
pistol from its holster with my left hand. It was immediately kicked away by
the woman who was now standing over me, tomahawk raised to kill.

“Enough!” The commander’s voice brought me both relief and
shame. The woman moved to remove the tomahawk, but was stopped by the medical
officers, who then carried me to the medical room. I spent the rest of the day
there as the doctors removed the axe and stitched me back together, using some
sort of strange foam. The foam filled the wound and stimulated the cells,
causing a rapid regeneration of tissue. They constantly praised me for the
injury, saying it was “something to be proud of” since it was my “first battle
wound” and how “everyone gets one by the time they graduate”. I found little
joy in the matter.

The next day I woke early. My third fight scheduled as was
the first of the day and I needed to be awake early if I wanted any breakfast.
I made my way to the cafeteria and sat alone as I usually did, and began to
eat. My arm was still very sore from the last match, though the doctors seemed
confident that I was still eligible to fight.

“So, ready for your match today?” Tek was eating with his
friend at a nearby table.

“Nah, I am done. I took a round to the forehead that last
Mevaktevchehevok
. Nothing too ... but imagine if ... had
been my eye? I will just try again next year, when I am ready.”

“Sorry to hear. I just need one more … to pass.”

“Well good luck to you then.” Tek finished his meal and
left. His friend soon followed. I sat for a moment and thought about their
words. My Rovanekren was still too unrefined. I thought about how Tek’s friend
defaulted, and considered if I should as well. There was no shame in it.
Several others have already backed out as well. I finished my food and readied
myself to leave. I could return to the barracks and rest but had an urge to go
directly to the prep room. It was my “sense” again. I considered ignoring it.
It was this same feeling that had brought me into this in the first place. I
thought for a moment. Perhaps I could win? The feeling grew stronger, no longer
an urge, but a want. I was compelled. I can win. I had to win. I walked towards
the prep room. I was going to win.

I had to enter second this round. My opponent, Jevack, went
with only a single weapon. This was a dangerous situation for both of us. This
would mean that neither of us would be able to rely on a backup weapon, should
we find ourselves in a difficult situation. I had to choose wisely. I lingered,
nervous about which weapon to use. My sense had left moments before entering
the room. It would not help me now.

“Hurry up, or you’re not getting anything!” The instructor
attending the prep room shouted impatiently.

“Ok, ok.”

I decided to rely on luck. I closed my eyes and reached for
something. If it was a rifle, then I would take that. If not, I would take a
sword. I opened my eyes to find myself clutching a
shortsword
,
freshly crafted. I tested its weight. It was heavy, but well balanced. This was
my weapon. I told the instructor I was ready, and he allowed me to enter the
arena. The room’s design was fascinating. The walls were entirely symmetrical,
separated by a simulated river that seemed real enough to drink from. A large,
wooden bridge allowed for crossing over the river. Jevack was standing in the
center of the bridge.

He swore in Rovanekren. “Wai do
I
haff
to fight ta
haff
blood?”

“What? Are you scared of me?” I shouted in Rovanekren. He
seemed surprised, then irritated. Thankfully, he also had a sword. This meant I
would not have another repeat of my fight with Tek.

“Nah, I
juss
don think
iss
fair for
yuu
is all.” He
readied himself,
then
spoke in Rovanekren.

“This will be quick.”

I climbed the stairway to the bridge and readied myself.
Neither one of us moved. It was as if time had stopped. Eventually I took a
step forward. Jevack twitched, paused,
then
did the
same. We were still apart by two meters.
Another step,
followed by a step of his own.
We were trying to wait for the other to
make a move. I hoped that he would leave an opening in the attempt.
Another step.
We were now close enough to allow contact.
Some of the spectators began to plead, yell, shout, and demand a start to the
fight. I struggled to stay focused. For a moment, Jevack looked away. This was
my chance. I was already swinging, stepping backwards as I swung parallel to
the direction he was looking. He couldn’t see the blade. Instantly he reacted,
almost flinching as he threw his blade up to protect himself. The blades
struck, causing both to recoil. A cheer erupted from the crowd. Jevack was
already in another swing. I raised my own blade in defense, deflecting his
strike. I spun, careful of my footwork and swung at the opening, like a
baseball player hitting a home run. Jevack raised his guard in time, but the
strike sent both of us backwards. Jevack fell. I quickly recovered and went for
a finishing strike. Jevack twisted his body enough to evade the strike, struck
the side of my blade with his arm, and followed with a swing that found its
target: my leg. I fell backwards. Immediately Jevack attempted a finishing
thrust. I used the upper part of my forearm to redirect the blade, causing a
scorching pain from the simulator. Immediately, I delivered a blow to his leg
with my other arm, sending him on one knee and forcing him to use his sword to
maintain balance. I followed up with a straight kick into his chest, sending
him backwards to the ground. We both quickly recovered and became fixed in
another stalemate.

“Am I tougher than you thought?” I shouted I figured
taunting may bring him to swing first.

“Maybe humans are tougher than you think!” I continued. “Or
maybe you’re just a bad fighter!”

“Shut up!” Jevack swung viciously. His sword swept clean
through mine, creating a sharp noise as the blade snapped. It rotated through
the air landing in the water. I froze, paralyzed in shock. Jevack swung again.
I panicked and raised my arms in defense. I was going to end up with broken
arms. There was a strange, electrical sound. Jevack flew backwards, violently.
He nearly fell over the stairs of the bridge. His sword had impaled itself in
the outer wall of the arena. My gaze shifted to my arms which were now glowing
dark purple. Not knowing how, I had just triggered my powers again. King’s
powers, the Rovanekrens called it. I reached for the hilt of my sword. The
broken blade was not much, but it was still sharp. I walked over to Jevack and
held the broken sword to his neck.

“Enough! Jacob, you have won. The match is over.”

Jevack kicked me away and jumped to his feet.

“He cheated! He used king’s powers against me!” Jevack shouted.
The instructors huddled together to confer with the commander. It was obvious
that they were deciding how to react. Finally the commander spoke up.

“Jacob shall remain the winner of this round, but we simply
cannot allow another match like this. Jacob, since you have demonstrated a
clear advantage over your fellow recruits, you will be given a challenge much
more suited to your level.” I nodded, silently. “To truly challenge your
powers, your next fight will be against one of our best fighters. You’re
dismissed.” I froze for a moment to let their words sink in, then awkwardly
bowed and turned to leave. As I opened the doors, several medical officers
rushed in to care to Jevack, who waved them away and limped to the exit.

I couldn’t sleep that night, so I rested the whole day. My
opponent wanted to have the match scheduled at the end of the day, so I had
plenty of time to myself. What had I gotten myself into? Why was it that every
time I followed this strange “sense” of mine it led me deeper into trouble? How
was I supposed to win against a trained warrior? This was the second time I had
summoned my powers, yet I still did not know how. Before I knew it, it was
dusk. My match was soon.

My final match was different in a variety of ways. I was
allowed any weapon and tactic at my disposal, along with my mesh suit. It had
just been finished, as if specifically for the occasion. I was considered the
challenger of the match, so I would enter second. Before I could choose a
weapon, I was stopped by Brin.

“Your opponent is a warrior who graduated just last year.
His nickname is Walker. He won all four matches during his testing month.”

“I thought you were only allowed two successful matches.”

“That rule was made just after his graduation. Let’s just
say he’s called Walker because he’s the only one who ever walks out of the
arena.”

“Great. Can I just quit now?”

“No. Listen, he uses a custom weapon set.
Twin
claws.
He’s also very agile. Don’t hesitate if you get a shot or you’ll
miss. Above all else, don’t let him get close. He gets a little… psychotic in
combat.”

I stared hard at the arrangement of weapons before me,
sighed, then picked up my usual assortment and walked into the arena. The room
donned the appearance of a forest again, though the trees that I once used to
my advantage now seemed to betray me. They hid a very dangerous foe. He was
likely watching me, plotting my end. I scanned the trees for even the slightest
inkling of movement.
Nothing.
A slight flash appeared
to my right. Instinctively I aimed at it. Instantly the lights disappeared, and
the room filled with darkness. A few cries of confusion and shock came from the
crowd. A small panel landed on the ground, thrown from its place. A variety of
wires and switches were exposed. Several small blue lights provided the only
source of relief from the blackness, along with a single bulb connected to a
torn wire. Walker chose to have a match at dusk so that he could sabotage the
lights. Fear flooded me, and I spun around, searching frantically for a sign of
my hidden foe. My heartbeat thundered into the darkness like a drum. Thump,
thump. I wondered if he could hear it. I slowly, yet quietly, began to move
forward. Thump, thump, CRACK! A small branch roared out into the silence as it
bent downwards, releasing a several leaves. Immediately I fired several rounds
upon the tree, hoping to hit my opponent. The branch twisted back into place
and steadied. Silence returned.

The match was not over. Thump, thump. I wondered how it was
possible to move so silently. The branches creaked with the slightest of
weight, while the floor was blanketed in fallen leaves and sticks. Why couldn’t
I hear him?! Thump, thump. A realization struck me. I was too nervous. I was so
unnerved by my opponent that my heartbeat and frantic breathing drowned out the
slight noises I searched so desperately for. I stopped moving, closed my eyes,
and began to slow my breathing. There was a slight hum.
A
buzzing of electricity.
Small footsteps.

My eyes shot open and I spun around just as Walker slashed
downwards with a claw. The blow knocked my damaged rifle to the ground. He
followed up with a kick which was delivered with surprising force. I landed on
my back two meters away from where I had been standing. Brin was right. Walker
was using weapons I had never seen before. He wore bands that wrapped around
his upper arms, with wires that attached to his gauntlets, each with a small
triangular guard for protection. The wires extended to the center of his gloves
then separated, connecting to each of his fingers individually. A small, curved
pin extended from the proximal part of each of his fingers and thumbs. Long
blades of energy extended from the end of the pins. Surprisingly, the glow from
each of the blades was almost nonexistent, allowing Walker to use his claws
without detection. The warrior wore a mischievous smile, and casually walked
over to where I sat, and extended his hand.

“What?”

“You’re too easy of a target.” His Gaia was surprisingly
refined. “It wouldn’t be fun to finish you now.”

Pausing, suspicious of his intent, I raised myself up
slowly. He gave a nod,
then
turned toward the forest.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” He disappeared again. I
drew my sword, calmed myself and searched the sounds of the room for Walker.
Twitches from leaves and branches came from all sides,
then
the maddening silence returned. I focused on the most recent of the noises and
waited, careful not to turn toward the noise and give away that I had
identified where he was. The shadowy figure leapt from his hiding place and
swung his right claw in my direction. I twisted my body violently and parried
the attack. His left claw came in response. I only had the one blade to defend
myself with. Driving the sword downwards, I deflected his second attack. His
right arm returned, striking me in the left cheek with his palm. I spun away,
but caught myself before I lost my balance. Focusing on Walker, I swung in
attack. Walker steadied himself, waited for me to swing,
then
caught the blade between his own. He paused for a moment, a grin spread across
his face,
then
he twisted his arms, slicing my sword
in two. He reversed his arms back and sliced across my chest. I tumbled back
several steps in shock. My suit appeared completely intact, but I felt several
burns across my chest. In a real battle, the wound may have been substantial.
My body did not lock up, so the wound was not considered a fatal one. Still,
the pain was difficult to ignore. I looked up at my crazed opponent. He stood
above me, arms raised, prepared to send a finishing blow. I had no weapon.
Completely defenseless, I flinched as Walker began to swing forward then
suddenly paused mid-strike, as if restraining himself. He took quick looks
towards the crowd, clearly waiting for something. I was unarmed, yet they did
not call off the match. I looked at my hands. Were they counting my powers as a
weapon?

Walker came to the same conclusion soon after, and continued
his assault. I somehow dodged his attack, and focused my thoughts. How do I summon
the strange power? Another swing, another
sidestep
. I
had been tense, defenseless and filled with adrenaline every instance before.
Swing.
Duck, then
backstep
.
I tensed my arm to see if the energy would spark. I could feel the energy
around me, yet nothing happened.
Swing.
Dodge. I was
forgetting something.
Something that would ignite the energy
for me.
But, what?
Another
swing.
I heard the shimmering sound of metal and energy slice through
the air.
A spark.
I needed a catalyst. I raised my arm
to block Walker’s next swing, hoping that I would not be dismembered. The sound
of metal hitting metal rang out violently throughout the arena. Walker
staggered backwards. I looked at my arm, now glowing with its purple aura, and
grinned at the turn of events. Remembering my first fight, and how reaching for
my legs caused the energy to jump to my arms. I brushed my arm against my leg.
Instantly, the aura enveloped both my legs and my other arm. Fixing my fighting
stance, I was now ready. Walker struck back, furiously. I blocked and countered
with a similar ferocity and speed. We continued this cycle for several minutes,
blocking most of each other’s blows yet still managing to sneak in an
occasional strike. The crowd was ecstatic, cheering and crying out at our stalemate.
My body wanted to give out. My legs had all but locked in place, yet I
continued fighting. As I felt his right claw fly past my cheek, I swung upwards
with my left and grabbed onto his arm. He reacted with a swing from his left. I
swung as well, hoping to strike first. My body twisted into the punch. His
strike missed, barely grazing my back, while my own swing made full contact
with his ribs. The impact knocked him off his balance. This was my chance. I
let go of his arm and delivered my best left hook. The blow struck his face,
sending his body spiraling backwards. The force was too great for the
simulation, and Walker fazed through several undamaged trees before finally
crashing into the far arena wall. He stuck for a moment,
then
crashed to the ground like a large ragdoll. The room went deathly silent. Not
even the commander spoke to verify that the match was over. The arena returned
to its normal state, and several medical officers came in to carry off the
broken Walker. Terror filled me. I wondered if I had killed him.