Chapter 6
"Uploading auxiliary databank."
"Secondary systems online. Main power is stable."
"Have all test cycles completed?"
"Yes. All systems are functioning properly."
To his surprise, Arus felt completely rejuvenated as consciousness swept over him. It was an odd feeling, though, much different than awakening after a long night's sleep. It was abrupt, like his mind had sprung to life as a spark would set a bale of hay ablaze. There was no weariness or fatigue, just raw energy and a surprising clarity of mind. Still, his thoughts raced uncontrollably as though his brain was functioning too quickly for its own comprehension. Most lasted so briefly that he had forgotten them seconds later. The few he managed to single-out seemed to be incoherent nonsense. Main power drive stable. Laser coupling enabled. Scanners online. Movement functions synched. None of it made any sense, and they disappeared as quickly as they appeared. I must still be dreaming. That's it.
Upload complete.
"Auxiliary databank has been uploaded."
"I'm picking up unrelated brain activity. He's thinking about something. Confused, it seems."
"To be expected. Pay it no mind. We're almost finished. Begin writing primary backup."
"Backup initialized."
He was on a cool surface, possibly metal. The air was warm and thick, and his body was drenched in sweat. The random thoughts continued, mixed with the foggy memories of his battle with Sartan Truce. Did I really lose my arm, or was that a part of the dream? Though it refused to move, he could feel his arm lying beside him. If I dreamt that part, how much was real? He tried to move, tried to shake himself into consciousness, but his body remained perfectly still. I am awake, aren't I? I've never had a dream where my own thoughts were so vivid before. Why can't I open my eyes? What's happened to me?
"Primary backup complete."
"Begin auxiliary backup. Initialize onboard life-support and disconnect from the main terminal."
"Auxiliary backup initialized. Life-support systems online and functioning."
A chill swept across Arus' body, sending shivers down his spine, and with them, images of Kitreena skimmed the surface of his mind. Her eyes of amethyst, glowing, staring, piercing his own with their ferocious energy. That was certainly a part of the dream. No human can wield power like that, unless she was one of the Vermillion Mages. Unlikely, given her utter disdain for anything involving Truce. She certainly was pretty. Will I ever see her again? The images faded into nothingness, replaced only by the sea of darkness that plagued him. I wonder what happened to Vultrel and Master Eaisan. I hope they're all right. Anton, too. Maybe that was part of the dream! Maybe Anton is still alive!
"Auxiliary backup complete. Life-support is active and stable."
"Good. All right, I think we're ready. Switch power to full and Initialize mainframe."
"Power to full. Initialization commencing."
Abruptly, the world appeared. The rocky cavern ceiling came into focus almost immediately. A strange winding sound buzzed near his left eye, and a thin red film tinted his vision. For a moment, blocky-shaped text appeared, echoing the various thoughts that continued to stream through his subconscious. When the words "Scanners Enabled" appeared, a small circle of deep maroon appeared in the upper right edge of his vision, marked with a dark red point in the center and two white points on the left side. Toward the bottom-left, the words "Main Power: %100" glowed in the same red as the circle. Opposite that, a message reading "Current Magnification: %100" sat near the corner. What is all this? By the Maker, would someone please tell me what is going on?!
"Initialization complete. Mainframe is up and running. Audio recognition protocols are active and responding. Visual cortex is functioning as anticipated. He's ready to go."
"Arus? Arus, can you hear me?"
For the first time, Arus recognized Sartan Truce's voice; he couldn't fathom how he'd not realized sooner. What has he done to me? Why am I—
"Yes, Master."
To hear himself speak when he hadn't even attempted to open his mouth was frightening, but to hear himself refer to Truce as "Master" was absolutely terrifying. He wanted to scream—he tried to, actually—but his mouth didn't even open. Panic washed over him like the waves of the South Sea. He tried to struggle, tried to yell, tried to do anything to get his body to respond, but he only succeeded in panicking himself further. Is he . . . controlling me? Oh my . . . He trailed off as he remembered Truce's threats, and the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. I've replaced Anton! He's put one of those machines on me, and it's controlling me!
"How are you feeling, Arus? Are all systems in working order?"
He watched in horror as his head turned on its own, bringing Truce and Olock into view. "All systems are fully operational." Blood stained Truce's shirt and sleeves, and a wide variety of tools lay scattered across a metal counter beside him. Olock stood beside some sort of machine just behind Sartan, staring intently at glowing text that scrolled across a sheet of glass on the front. "His heart is racing," he murmured, glancing at Arus. "He's not reacting well."
"Neither did the other one," Truce noted. His eyes were visibly heavy from an apparent lack of sleep. There was no telling how long they'd been working on Arus, but they seemed pleased with the results. "Give it time, he'll get used to it."
Never!
"How about that arm, Arus? How does it feel?"
He lifted his left arm—felt it lift—and gazed upon a shining steel forearm. The entire limb had been replaced by a machine, solid metal plates wrapping around greased joints and bundled wires. It looked remarkably like his human arm, if only made of steel. So I did lose my arm. None of it was a dream, it was all real. I can't believe this. I can't believe this is happening! "It meets system requirements, Master," he heard himself say. "No compatibility issues to report."
"Good," Sartan nodded, rising from his chair. He stifled a yawn, looking over Arus with obvious pride and satisfaction. "Well, let's get you started on your training. We can't send you into battle until your systems have been properly tested and tuned to perfection. Come."
Arus' body moved stiffly as he rose, but his legs held firm beneath him. His back remained straight as an arrow as he walked—almost marched—behind Truce and Olock. They left the medical facility behind and headed deeper into the network of caves. Arus ran over every conceivable idea in his mind as he searched for some way to regain control of his body. Anton did it. Somehow, he broke the hold. If I can just figure out what he did . . . But even then, Anton had only gained a brief moment of sanity, and he'd used it to end his life. Arus had no intentions of following suit. I won't let this go unanswered. I won't. I can't. Truce and Olock rounded a corner and led him into a large cavern. Easy for me to say that now. I don't know how much Anton may have fought against the implant before he decided that suicide was the only way. For all I know, I could be begging for the same in a few days.
The den was much like the arena, though Vermillion Mages were scattered throughout. It appeared to be a training room of sorts, complete with weights for strength and fitness training, target dummies for archers, and a dueling ring for swordsman. Near the right wall, a group of younger Mages were huddled in a circle, channeling small spheres of fire into their palms. Training to use magic, probably. Grunts of soldiers hard at work echoed across the cavern, and the foul smell of sweat floated in the thick air. Some stopped momentarily as he passed, staring in open awe. His mechanical arm got an uncomfortable amount of attention.
"Are you sure you want him to train with everyone else?" Olock asked, glancing at the others. "I thought you gave Anton one-on-one training."
"I did," Truce nodded, curving through the crowd toward the dueling ring, "but afterward, I thought that exposing the implant to a wider variety of fighting styles and techniques would give a more robust learning experience.
I'm hoping it will allow Arus to become an even better fighter."
You'll regret that when I turn my sword on you.
The soldiers, their shirts varying in bright colors, parted to either side as Truce led Arus into the dueling ring. One man, wearing green under a black vest, handed two rusted swords to Sartan and stepped away. "My fellow warriors," Truce began as the rest cleared from the ring. "Three days ago, you saw the beginnings of a technology that will lead us back to our former glory." So it's been three days. No wonder he looks so exhausted. "Today, I welcome you all to take part in the testing of the next phase of that technology. Arus Sheeth, son of Dayne, will be happy to duel with any and all challengers. The first to draw blood will be declared the victor, and if any of you manage to defeat him, I'll see that you and your family become the wealthiest of all the kyrosen. Well, aside from myself, of course." The last comment drew several laughs. "So, how about it? Any takers?"
"I challenge!"
"Aye!"
"I accept!"
Sartan grinned. "Now, now, one at a time. Any who wish to try their skill will have a chance."
"Challenge accepted," a large man in the front of the crowd bellowed. He was a bulky, hulking, brute of a man, standing a head taller than Truce, nearly two taller than Arus. His wide frame was well defined, muscle seemingly carved from stone. Dirty blond hair dangled below his chin on either side of his face, and he carried a curved sword larger and thicker than any Arus had ever seen before. That thing looks like it could cut a bear in two with a single slice! The fighter stepped into the ring opposite Arus, removing his vest and shirt as he walked.
Truce nodded his approval. "Very well, Muert, you have the honor of being the first to test Arus' abilities. I expect you to show no mercy, soldier." He handed one of the rusted swords to Arus and shifted to the right side of the ring. Arus' vision shifted for a moment. The magnification reading switched to one hundred and fifty percent, and the image of his opponent was suddenly much closer. Words glowed in his vision, detailing Muert's physical statistics before fading away.
Height: 6' 4"
Weight: 270lbs
Weapon: Great Scimitar
Strengths: Power, Stamina, Endurance
Weaknesses: Speed, Agility, Intelligence
Estimated Warrior Rating: 7.9
Arus had no idea what the rating meant, though the implant seemed to. If only I knew whatever it knows, I might be able to find a weakness in it. His vision shifted again, returning the magnification level to normal. A box of light surrounded Muert, followed by a soft rhythmic beeping that only Arus appeared to hear. The image of his opponent began to fill with different shades of green and orange and red and yellow, each apparently indicating conditioning levels in correspondence with a color-striped bar lining the top of his vision. Muert's arms and chest were filled in with yellows and oranges, indicating solid muscle mass, while his legs were a dim yellow and green mixture. I bet it means he's weaker there. Arus' sight switched back to normal—if that red tint could be considered normal.
The sword felt strangely light in his hands; either his strength had been greatly increased, or the weapon was poorly made. A little of both, he decided. The mechanical arm certainly felt strong, though his heart twisted every time he caught a glance of it. I can't believe what they've done to me, he thought to himself. For so many years humans have avoided machines because of the evil they can bring, and now, I've become one. I'll never be able to go home again. No one will accept me now. The rusted blade rose, gripped solidly by the steel hand. Muert was stretching his arms to loosen his joints while Arus' body took up a fighting stance he didn't recognize. Eventually, Muert hefted his own weapon to his shoulder and focused his attention on his opponent. Fear rippled through Arus, but his face was expressionless. He was a prisoner of his own body reduced to nothing more than a spectator along for the ride. And despite every bit of psychological effort he made to force his body to move as he wanted, nothing he did brought him any closer to breaking the implant's hold. What am I going to do? Master Eaisan, Vultrel, Kitreena . . . Someone, help me! Please, free me!
Truce raised an arm, bringing a hush over the crowd. "Warriors to battle! Begin!"