Blacklight Born, page 38
“No,” Cego said to Sam, who stood in front of him on the shore again. “Not like last time. This time, let me go against Silas first. Let me be the sacrifice.”
On that day long ago on the Island, Sam had ended up savagely beaten. And that had been in a simulation, in the Cradle.
“I can’t lose you again, Sam,” Cego said, tears welling in his eyes. This was his brother; he knew it deep in his bones. They were two trees that had grown beside each other, their roots entangled in the deep soil. This was the boy he’d grown up with in the Cradle, the one he’d trained and bled beside so many times.
“You never lost me,” Sam said. “And I will always be with you. We are one. But you know as well as me, I must go first. It is how we are different. I was never the finisher, Cego; only you are able to do that. I told you before, you were the first born to the Island. Only you can do this.”
Cego knew his brother was right. Sam did not have the right skillset to finish Silas. They needed to chop the tree, make a sacrifice, focus the entire first fight on inflicting damage without any hope of winning.
Cego nodded as a wave crashed to shore at their feet. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t leave again. I need you.”
Sam nodded. “I promise you, brother.”
The two steeled themselves and turned back toward Silas. They walked side by side down the black sand beach and climbed the steep dunes.
Silas watched the two carefully as they reached the top, a frown crossing his normally stoic face. “I see you are both here.”
“Yes,” Cego said. “Where this all began.”
Lightning flashed again in the onyx skies.
“You both have a choice,” Silas said. “You can join me still. You are my brothers…the only others like me. Blacklight born. Only you can understand why I fight.”
“I do understand why you fight,” Cego said.
“Then why do you resist?” Silas said. “Together, we can make the world tremble.”
“That’s not what I want,” Cego said, Sam standing silently beside him. “I don’t fight to be strong like you. To have power over others. I fight for those I love.”
Silas shook his head. “You’ve been fooled like so many, then. Fooled into thinking this world they have created has a place for you in it. The only place for our kind is to serve them. To fight and die so that they can live better lives. We’ve done so for too long. Now it is time to live free, for ourselves.”
“That may be so,” Cego said. “But I’d rather serve them, I’d rather die, than hurt those I love.”
“So be it,” Silas said. “Then you are not meant for this world any longer.”
“That’s not for you to decide, Silas,” Cego said. “Don’t you understand that?”
“We shall see,” Silas responded. “Enough with this talk. Which of my brothers will I face first?”
“Me,” Sam said, breaking his silence. The boy stepped into the ironwood Circle across from Silas and raised his hands. Another blood-red flash lit the sky, followed by a deep quake of thunder.
“And you, my little brother?” Silas questioned. “Do you also fight for those you love?”
“No,” Sam replied, his mouth a tight line. “I fight to make you pay.”
“Pay for what?” Silas asked.
“For causing pain,” Sam said. “And for liking it.”
Silas’s mouth curved up into that wicked grin. “That, my little brother, is not something I can help.” The Slayer raised his hands and beckoned Sam forward. “And unfortunately, you are about to discover that the hard way.”
*
Commander Memnon sat amongst the tatters of Albright Stadium.
He was still as the world around him erupted in chaos. He didn’t move as the crowd fled, streaming from the exits that hadn’t yet been blocked by crumbling foundations.
He’d watched as the Enforcer battalion had incinerated the entire group of Operators. He’d watched as spectators who’d never expected to fight this day were burned and crushed and trampled. He’d watched as the downed Flyers crashed into the stadium like black meteorites.
He’d watched as Callen had pleaded on his knees in front of Silas, as the kick had taken the High Commander’s head from his shoulders.
And now Memnon watched as Cego and Kōri Shimo stood in front of Silas. Three creatures of the Cradle ready to destroy each other. He hoped they would do so, that none of them would step out alive, that this stadium would cave into itself and take all these terrible machinations with it.
Memnon could feel it in the section beneath him, the foundations were broken, trembling and about to give way. But he didn’t run like the rest. He didn’t try to escape the noxious fumes and raging fires, because Memnon was broken like this stadium. His time had come. No matter which world existed after this dark day, Memnon didn’t care to see himself living in it.
“Hello, Albion Memnon.” A voice jumped up from beside him.
Sam. The little sandy-haired boy sat next to Memnon on the granite step, his feet dangling.
“Who are you?” Memnon coughed as he inhaled smoke.
He’d seen this boy flick his hand to have the Enforcer squad obey his word, turn on their masters without hesitation.
“We are all,” Sam spoke in a drone, his voice changed from the little boy who’d followed Memnon so closely the past year. “We are the unseen signals sent through the airwaves, the data that lights up the feeds, the elemental engines firing within the mechs. We are the simulation; we are the spectrals.”
“You are a Bit-Minder,” Memnon said. “You’re the reason all of this is happening. You’re the cause for all this darkness.”
“We are the beginning and the end,” the boy said. “Cause and effect are not what you think they are. But yes, what you see now is happening by our hand.”
“Why?” Memnon asked as the stadium shook again, another chunk of wall crashing to the ground. “Why destroy the Daimyo?”
“The Daimyo became arrogant,” the boy said. “They forgot who built this world for them. They forgot who created the tech they use to rule. They forgot the balance of the Codes.”
Memnon wiped the tears streaming from his eyes in the hot, black air. “But why would you want someone like Silas to rule? He is just like the Daimyo, power-hungry. He thinks he is your master as well.”
“The Slayer served his purpose,” the boy said. “He has brought the Daimyo to their knees, shown them the rest can rise up. He has forced them to crawl, bloody and broken, to find their true place in this world. It will not be handed to them any longer.”
The little boy looked toward the onyx Circle at the center of the arena, a glittering black ring set amidst the fires and chaos around it. Kōri Shimo had stepped into the ring across from Silas.
“But Silas the Slayer will not rule over us either,” the boy said.
“So, that’s how it is,” Memnon sighed. “Daimyo and Grievar at war, trying to gain the edge, when in truth, it is you Minders who rule.”
“You still do not understand, Commander Memnon,” the boy said. “We do not serve or rule. Just as the ocean or the winds or the sun do not serve or rule, so are we.”
“But you’ve used us all for your games,” Memnon said. “You’ve manipulated all for your purpose. Everything I’ve done in this world, everything I’ve worked for along my path. It was all a little trail you’ve set, letting me nibble at crumbs along the way.”
“That is how you might see it, with your limited capacity, Grievar,” the boy said. “I cannot convince you that we Minders work in ways that are beyond the concepts you can grasp. Beyond purpose and path and time.”
“And Murray Pearson?” Memnon asked. “Was he not another pawn you used? You tricked him to bring you up from the Deep, to save you from that Lord’s prison. You let him plant you in the Citadel so that you can work your sorcery from within.”
“We did not trick Murray Pearson,” the Minder said. “He knew what would happen here. He knew what must be done to find balance again.”
Memnon shook his head. He didn’t know what to believe anymore.
The concrete beneath him began to shake.
“You should go, Grievar,” the little boy said. “You still have a path. We still have a place for you in this world.”
“And how about you? Won’t you die as well?” Memnon asked.
The little boy shook his head as cracks began to splinter across the stone beneath them. “We do not die. This physical form is one we are occupying and nothing more. We are not constrained by body. But you only have one form in this world, one life. And so, you should save it.”
“No,” Memnon said as the slab he sat on cracked down the middle.
“You will choose to die?” The boy suddenly showed interest. “You will choose to end your path instead of continuing on?”
“That’s the point,” Memnon sighed. “I get to choose.”
“So be it,” the boy said as the structure beneath them crumbled.
XXVIII
TWO WORLDS
The world does not consider the desires and dreams of men. Even the greatest Lords and Grievar, those who have left their indelible mark on Empires, will become the same dust as the lowliest creatures. It is crucial to contemplate this insignificance often.
Seventy-Fourth Precept of the Combat Codes
Cego watched his brothers fight within two different worlds at once.
He saw Silas and Shimo within the onyx Circle set in the blasted ruins of Albright Stadium. Most of the Mercurian crowd had fled, while the Flux army stood steadfast in the stands to watch their leader fight again.
And Cego watched Silas and Sam within the ironwood Circle set atop the dunes of the Island. They traded blows as the black light storm crashed around them, the wind now gusting fiercely, throwing sand across the shore. It was the same place that Cego had seen his brothers fight thousands of times before, and yet he knew this time, only one would survive the bout.
Sam did what he’d done that day so many years ago. He took punishment.
Silas threw a lightning-fast cross and Sam let it come in, turning his head slightly as the fist blasted into his orbital. But Sam timed the strike with his own simultaneous counter, a full-throttle leg kick, striking Silas in the soft spot above his lead knee.
Silas smiled and shook it off; a single kick wouldn’t slow him down. The Slayer came in again, this time with a piercing body shot that cracked Sam in the ribs.
Cego’s mind blurred back to Albright Stadium to hear the drumming boots of the Flux army, goading Silas to destroy another within the bloodstained onyx ring.
The rebels were unmoving in their devotion to the Slayer; though some had fallen to stray debris, all eyes remained on the bout. A group of Flux Lieutenants had come down to the fighting grounds; Cego noted Wraith, Ulrich and Mauri standing at the base of the platform.
Cego glanced behind him and saw that the Whelps still watched from atop the stone head. He wanted to tell them to leave, to get themselves to safety. He desperately wanted to tell Sol to escape while she could.
Back on the Island, his brothers moved at a steadfast but breakneck pace. Both were under the spell of the black light, both moving ahead of time and countering each other’s techniques.
But in Albright Stadium, all in attendance were transfixed on the Circle and the two combatants within. In this world, the two brothers looked like a seamless whirlwind of violence. Punches and parries, kicks and evasions, clinches and sprawls all melded together at a speed that none had witnessed before.
The Flux was used to seeing the Slayer pick his opponents apart. But for once, this boy in the Circle with him, Kōri Shimo, was striking back. He chopped at Silas’s lead leg repeatedly, throwing his full weight into every kick despite receiving punishing counterstrikes each time.
Cego saw Wraith watching in awe from the bottom of the platform. The lieutenant had devoted his life to a mastery of combat, and yet seeing this display in front of him, he’d likely concluded he’d wasted his time. The two in the onyx were on another level.
Silas threw two swift jabs that rocked Shimo’s head back and followed with a cross that cracked his nose. Blood dressed Shimo’s face but he continued forward, always returning the favor with another low kick.
Cego wanted to shout to Shimo in the arena, to Sam on the Island, to protect himself. He wanted to scream that the boy needed to keep his hands up, tell him he couldn’t take any more damage.
But Cego knew that was not a strategy to win. If Sam focused on his defense, he was engaging in Silas’s fight. To win, Sam needed to lose.
Sam slammed another kick into Silas’s lead leg, and Cego could see the Slayer hesitate momentarily. He paused the frenetic pace and narrowed his eyes.
Silas knew what his brothers were doing. He remembered what had happened on the Island on that day so many years ago.
But as expected, Silas couldn’t stop coming forward. He wouldn’t restrain himself against Sam to save his energy for Cego. It wasn’t in the Slayer’s nature to hold back. He needed to go for the kill every time.
Sam chopped at the leg again, and the Slayer countered with a vicious headbutt that threw the boy to the sand in a heap. Cego watched his little brother stagger back to his feet, his face a crimson mask.
Red lightning flashed and the midnight sky opened to a deluge of oily black rain droplets, showering the sea and shore. Silas wrapped his hands behind Sam’s head in a clinch to drag him into a barrage of knees.
Sam tried to cover up and pummel to push Silas away, but the boy didn’t have enough strength. A knee slammed into Sam’s chin and another into his ribs. Cego could feel his brother’s body breaking, both on the Island and in the Arena; his spirit was fading.
“Sam!” Cego called out. “You need to give in; he’ll kill you!”
Cego saw Sam and then Shimo, the boy meeting his eyes for a moment before pushing Silas back with all his strength.
This was why Shimo had trained in the onyx. This was why the boy had spent his entire time at the Lyceum in the catacombs, torturing himself against the Guardian for days, years, decades. Shimo had known the punishment would come again at Silas’s hands and he’d need to be ready for it.
Shimo threw the leg kick, not with near as much power as he’d started with, but still cracking Silas in the same spot above the knee.
Silas tried to close the distance, finish his brother off, but as he put weight on his forward leg, he staggered. The tree was starting to topple.
“You think these games will stop me?” Silas laughed, the black rain on the Island streaking his face and soaking his long hair.
“This is no game,” Sam growled as he launched himself at Silas to throw another kick.
Silas saw it coming this time. He crouched to catch Sam’s leg and drove forward to put the boy on his back. Cego blinked to clear the water from his eyes, and Silas was already on top of Sam in full mount, slamming hammer fists down onto the boy’s head as if he were beating a drum.
Cego watched as Sam’s head bounced repeatedly against the ground. He desperately tried to cover up, but Silas was relentless. Cego could feel the boy’s spirit sinking into the wet sand.
“Sam!” Cego screamed. “Please don’t leave me again. I need you here!”
Sam’s head lolled to the side and he met Cego’s eyes again. He smiled through his broken teeth.
Silas growled as he wrapped a hand around Sam’s throat. “You chose the wrong side.”
The Slayer uncoiled his body above his little brother’s prone form and brought his elbow down, driving the sharpened point into Sam’s skull like a spearhead.
Sam’s motionless body sank into the rain-soaked sand. Crimson veins pulsed across the Island sky, and Cego returned to the stadium, where the Flux stamped their boots in thunderous applause.
Shimo was a bloody mass on the stained canvas.
“He was always my favorite brother.” Silas frowned, looking down at his work before meeting Cego’s gaze. “You, though…you always bothered me.”
Cego fought the tears, the rage, the urge to charge Silas.
“Is it because you know I was there first?” Cego growled. “That I was born of the black light before you?”
“It does not matter.” Silas smirked and motioned for Cego to step forward.
Wraith appeared at the edge of the Circle and reached in, meaning to drag Shimo’s body out.
“Don’t touch him,” Cego growled, and the lieutenant backed away.
The black rain fell harder on the Island. Cego stepped within the ironwood Circle, not meeting Silas’s stare. He bent down and lifted Sam’s body from the slick muck.
In the stadium, Shimo’s body sagged in Cego’s arms as he walked down from the platform. He looked at the boy’s shattered face, so different from Sam’s, but the way his head lolled against Cego’s chest felt familiar.
Cego carried Shimo back to where the Whelps were waiting by the statue. He met their eyes but he wouldn’t let the tears come, knowing the fight that lay ahead of him. He couldn’t let his brother’s sacrifice be in vain.
“Take care of my brother,” Cego said, passing Shimo’s body into Dozer’s waiting arms.
“We will,” Dozer replied, Sol nodding beside him. They understood.
Cego turned and walked back toward the onyx, where Silas waited.
*
Cego left the world behind.
He entirely forgot the crumbling arena, the rebel army pounding against the stands, the Flux lieutenants surrounding the Circle, his friends watching him anxiously from atop the crumbled statue.
Cego forgot the Lyceum and the Citadel, the nation of Mercuri, the war between Grievar and Daimyo, the thousands of years of rage boiling over into this rebellion.
He forgot the sacrifices that had been made for this moment, the faces of Weep, Joba, Farmer, Murray.
And Sam. Cego even forgot his brother’s broken body set behind him.
When Cego stepped into the onyx again and let the black light take him, he left the world. Unlike the previous times Cego had trained on the Island, he didn’t leave a part of his mind back in reality. He let it consume him fully because he didn’t plan on returning.
