James Maxey - Greatshadow

Relic cleared his throat. “The War Doll has been programmed to utter simple phrases to simulate pain or frustration. The old kings demanded this verisimilitude.”

The boy wasn’t distracted by the conversation at the edge of the arena. His eyes were locked on Infidel as she rose. The kicks to the throat might have decapitated an ordinary woman. Right about now, the Golden Child was probably starting to wonder about the possibility of steel bones after all.

Infidel made it back to her feet. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. She leaned forward slightly and the boy danced back. Even with a sore foot, he was still as nimble as a cat. Maybe he was going to have a hard time breaking Infidel, but she faced an equally tough challenge in knocking him down.

Infidel lunged toward the boy. Instead of aiming a blow at the child, she raised both fists above her head, then dropped to her knees, delivering a powerful two-fisted strike to the ground. Gravel flew into the air in a wave. I gave the cave roof a worried glance as the shock toppled boulders and popped tent pegs. Numinous merely lifted his feet into the air as the destructive energy passed beneath him. When he landed, he somersaulted toward Infidel. She rose, punching out, and he used her outstretched arm as a springboard. He landed behind her and shouted, “Hyuh!” as he kicked into the bend of her knees. Infidel’s legs folded beneath her, but before she hit the ground, the boy unleashed a whirlwind of blows — “Hyi! Hyun! Haih! Yah! Huu!” — as he aimed precise strikes at nerves in her spine, elbows, and shoulders.

Infidel sucked in air as her face twisted in pain. She rolled to her back as the Golden Child dropped toward her, sinking both knees into her gut just beneath her ribs, then rolling forward and cuffing both ears simultaneously as he shouted, “Kiii!” His momentum carried him out of Infidel’s reach as she flailed her arms uselessly in the air.

“I’ve seen enough,” said Lord Tower, raising his hand. “The War Doll has failed the test.”

Relic sighed. “Centuries of wear have cost the War Doll some of its former prowess. Still, you must admit, it has withstood the best the boy can throw at it without breaking.”

I prayed that he was right, that Infidel wasn’t broken, but I wasn’t sure. Her eyes were unfocused as her legs uselessly pushed at the gravel. Her arms were splayed to her side, fingers twitching.

The Golden Child paced in a circle around his victim.

“The fight continues!” he cried, his voice a fierce growl. “She has not yet cried out for mercy! I will not rest until she confesses her ruse!”

“Your holy urchin is a sadist,” Aurora said, from across the sunlit arena.

“He has an unwavering passion for truth,” said Father Ver.

“Nonetheless,” said Lord Tower, “The fight is over. We should-”

He never got to complete his sentence. The Golden Child leapt into the air above Infidel, spinning like a top, as he unleashed an ear-piercing battle cry. Gone was the placidity that had gripped his features earlier. Blood-lust blazed in his eyes.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, Infidel moved, grabbing a fist-sized rock in her right hand, a slightly larger one in her left. She swung her arms together as the boy dropped toward her, his feet aimed at her belly. Numinous tucked up his legs, and the rocks passed beneath his toes. The stones collided with a BANG that raised everyone’s hands to their ears. The rocks were pulverized, concealing Infidel and the boy inside a cloud of smoky gray dust.

From inside the haze there was a sharp high-pitched shout of “Aiigh!” It took a fraction of a second to realize that this wasn’t another war-cry. Numinous trailed dust as he shot skyward, a good fifty feet up the shaft, both hands grasping his crotch. Infidel sprang up as the boy reached his apex. The Golden Child’s eyes went wide as he spun his body, trying to avoid landing in Infidel’s grasp, but, as I knew all too well, no amount of arm-flapping and desperate kicking can change the trajectory of a falling body.

Infidel lifted an arm and grabbed the boy by the ankle, then swung him in an overhead arc to plant his face in the gravel.

“The fight is over!” shouted Lord Tower, jumping toward the combatants.

“The hell it is,” growled Infidel, whipping the boy up again, painting the gravel before her with a line of bright blood.

“The War Doll is programmed to taunt its enemies,” Relic said, though I don’t know if anyone was listening. Everyone’s eyes were wide with horror as Infidel spun the boy’s limp body around overhead and flung him. The child smashed into the stone wall above the Truthspeaker. The boy bounced off, completely limp, as the Whisper dove to catch him. She lowered his battered body gently to the ground. He was bleeding from both ears. His arms were bent at odd angles, as if they had too many joints.

Everyone was paralyzed as they stared, slack-jawed, at the bloodied child. Ivory Blade was the first to recover his senses. He whirled around, drawing his sword, as he shouted, “You’ve broken our Golden Child!” He leapt toward Relic, the tip of his sword aimed for the hunchback’s eyes.

Lord Tower reached out his gauntleted hand and caught the albino swordsman in mid-strike. The sword sliced the air six inches away from Relic’s hood.

“Let me go!” Blade cried out.

Father Ver turned from Numinous and shouted, “You will calm yourself!”

Instantly, the look of rage vanished from Blade’s features. He straightened his clothes as Tower set him back on the ground.

“The boy is not the Omega Reader,” said Father Ver, coolly. “He failed the thirteenth test; he faced an ancient monster, and could not defeat it.”

“But-” said Blade.

“The truth is before your very eyes. The boy misjudged his opponent; the true Omega Reader would never deceive himself so. This boy was just the latest in a long string of false hopes.” Father Ver glanced at the fallen boy with a look that was half pity, half contempt. “Numinous was poisoned by arrogance. This is one of the most insidious forms of self-deception.”

Infidel wasn’t paying any attention to the conversation. Instead, she moved slowly toward the boy, her eyes full of guilt. Relic intercepted her, taking her by the arm as he said to Tower, “Aurora has some skill as a healer. Let her look at the boy; perhaps his life can be saved.”

I doubted that Aurora was up to the task. Barely a minute had passed and both the boy’s arms were swelling up, turning purple from where bone had punched through muscle. His body trembled as he sank deeper into shock. A cold compress on the forehead wasn’t going to fix this.

However, the question of what Aurora could do was rendered moot as the man in red robes stepped toward Lord Tower. “You threatened to cut off my hands if I touched your precious Golden Child,” he said. “Now that he’s failed you, do you mind if I save his life?”

The knight nodded. “Do what you can, Deceiver.”

I suddenly had an explanation for why this man had a big ‘D’ tattooed on his forehead. I had thought that Deceivers were only bogey-monsters that monks used to frighten orphans. A fundamental tenant of the Church of the Book was that truth was truth; there was nothing subjective under the sun. The reality recorded in the One True Book was the only reality, inviolate, inflexible.

Deceivers, on the other hand, believed that nothing at all is true, not even the experience of our own senses. Everything we assume about reality — that the sky is blue, that grass is green, that snow is cold and fire is hot — is merely a shared delusion, constantly reinforced by people desperately clinging to the illusion of stability in a world where nothing is absolute. The One True Book was merely a work of fiction in the Deceiver’s world view. The Deceivers thought of themselves as shared authors of this fiction, and, as such, were free to edit reality to their liking. They were the greatest enemies of the church. What was one doing here, alive? I couldn’t believe Father Ver hadn’t slit his throat the second they met.