The morning came too quickly. Volithur suckled from chaos as he forced down a few pieces of toast for breakfast. The Marshal stopped at his table and sat wearily. “I have further news, Ward Harridan. This evening every soldier capable of fighting will leave to contest the Jinn for control of an unempowered world.”
The toast that hadn’t wanted to enter his stomach decided it wanted to escape back the way it had come. Volithur forced down the nausea. “We’re going to an unempowered world?” Fshes of memory assaulted him. Buildings crumbling to the ground, heads exploding, soldiers with rough hands forcing him to march.
“It is overdue, Ward Harridan. It’s almost two years since our st excursion. The Lord General likes to maintain the combat readiness of soldiers in the extended households with periodic battles.” The Marshal spread his lips into a fake smile. “But don’t worry for your safety. I pn to keep you by my side as an assistant. Our role is typically civilian pacification. Easy stuff. If the Jinn don’t choose to resist, we should be back on New Mart in three to five days.”
Volithur stared at the Marshal. “What if the Jinn do resist?”
“That rarely happens, Ward Harridan.”
“But if it does?”
“Then we hope they do not unleash their antimatter bombs.”
Volithur knew something about antimatter from the ‘Space Adventures’ show he used to watch as a kid. It was supposed to be the ultimate weapon of science. “How often do they use antimatter bombs?”
“Only when they are desperate,” the Marshal said. “They have to sacrifice one of their own every time they do it. Usually the Jinn prefer to fire their schism beams. Those can punch through anything, but they don’t target common soldiers. The bombs… those take out everyone in range.”
A whole host of concerns spun through Volithur’s mind. Would he be nuked by a Jinn area attack? Would he die from a sniper shot made by an unempowered local? Would he find himself forced to sughter powerless people? Would he have to witness his comrades casually popping human heads?
“Don’t lose sight of your upcoming test with Master Aramar, Ward Harridan. You need to do your best to impress him. After that, you will be preparing for the battle. Don’t expect to return to the pace for several days.”
Khana immediately began to fawn over him, concerned for his well-being and more than a little disappointed that they would be separated again. If there was one thing his beloved enjoyed most about marriage, it was undoubtedly performing her wifely duties. Throughout his youth, Volithur had always heard an adage from older men – when the ring goes on, the panties stay on, it went. Meaning that once a woman had been made a wife, her interest in intimacy suddenly declined. Perhaps it was because Khana was from a different culture or because they had not consummated their retionship until after marriage, but his wife did not follow that depressing script. Indeed, some days Volithur thought he needed his body enhancement just to keep up with her ardor.
Yet despite the attention he received, Volithur could not focus on women at the moment. The repressed rage that he had released during his incarceration in the basement cell had never left him. As he thought about going to another world to witness the same crimes perpetrated against his world done to another, his thoughts began to warp. The prospect of an antimatter bomb eradicating the Lord General and his army began to seem less and less like a tragedy.
“Are you ready to go, Ward Harridan?”
Volithur pecked his wife on the cheek and followed the Marshal to the training grounds outside the barracks. The other soldiers were sitting in formation, taking swigs from bottles of spirits. They did not seem particurly enthusiastic about the alcoholic beverage. Indeed, Volithur caught grimaces as they forced the fluid down their throats.
The Sergeant marched before the formation, tipping back his own bottle with stoic resolve. “Drink up, ds! You are going to want enough energy in your soul to power your aura defenses!”
Volithur sent a curious gnce to the Marshal and received back a whispered answer. “I’m not certain how much you know about the distiltion process, given your friendship with the former ward Thassily. There are unpleasant impurities that are excluded by throwing away the initial output of the still. An unenhanced body can go blind from those impurities. For us, though, the votile compounds release their cosmic energy even quicker than alcohol. Brewers on Tian collect what we would consider waste and sell it as a potent resource for quick energy replenishment. It’s also extremely unpleasant, causes inebriation, and will lead to liver failure if abused too often.”
They watched the show for about half an hour before the arrival of Master Aramar. With him was his son, Master Dorian. Volithur’s body tensed at the sight of the boy who had beaten him to a pulp. Dorian still shone with the power of a level six soul. That was only one level above Volithur, which meant he had twice the energy capacity.
Actually, Volithur only had twenty percent of his max while Dorian looked to be over half full. A quick assessment told him that Dorian’s body enhancement was nearing the peak of level six as well, whereas Volithur was not yet up to level five in his body enhancement.
“You are the foreign commoner who would stand with the Lord General in battle?” Master Aramar sniffed. “That is quite a lofty ambition. I am skeptical you are capable of discharging the duties of the post you aspire to. My esteemed father cannot be served by incapable help.”
Unsure how he was expected to react, Volithur simply bowed low and remained there. All of his etiquette lessons had been given with the unstated assumption that they were happening in civil society. Finding himself before an angry man three levels above him – meaning with eight times the energy capacity – in a military setting where he was expected to prove his mettle constituted novel territory.
“Well? Do you think yourself worthy, boy?”
“I aspire to be worthy, Master Aramar,” he said.
Aramar grunted. “Let’s test your worthiness. Or your aspiration of worthiness, if you prefer. You will fight Dorian until surrender or incapacitation. If your performance disappoints me, I will have you stripped of all resources and ejected from the Pace. Weapons and domains are permitted.”
His heart thundering, Volithur looked to Dorian. Judging by the curled lip baring his teeth, the boy clearly had retained his hostility for upstart commoners. Volithur swallowed as the Marshal passed a spear to each of them.
Before he could even ask, the match began. Dorian soared up into the air and shed at him with an energy cable to the face. Volithur defended with his aura. Dorian scowled and unched two more cables, one curving around to smack him in the back of the head, the other whipping down towards his legs. Volithur fred his aura over his entire body.
The cables, unable to directly damage him through his defenses, wrapped around him to take away his mobility. Volithur pushed free of the constriction, relying on his aura to disrupt the external pressure. He stabbed his spear tentatively into the air and it was swatted from his hands by a third cable.
In that moment, Volithur saw his path to victory.
Dorian had no conception of moderation. He lived on Tian and was handed whatever resources he desired. The boy had three cables of energy extended from him while energy radiated beneath his feet to keep him airborne. He was veritably bleeding energy in an attempt to have a fast finish of his opponent.
Volithur only had to exhaust the kid’s energy reserves. Before his own soul emptied out, of course. To that end, Volithur shuffled in a slow circle around his flying opponent, occasionally darting to the side to grab for his spear on the ground.
Every time he got close, a cable would wrap around the spear and pull it away. Meanwhile, the other cables had switched from attempting to grasp him to offering tripping hazards. Volithur ensured the game continued by reducing his aura to the point that he actually fell a few times. The cables would flick towards him with injurious intent at those moments.
He continued his game, regaining his feet every time he nded on the ground. Chasing his spear. Every once in a while he jumped at Dorian as if intending to pull the boy down for a grapple. His opponent flew higher, sneering down at him.
The spite grew ever more visible until the frustrated Dorian descended to stand on his feet.
The spear struck him several times in rapid succession, blocked every time by his aura. Then the second spear, held by Volithur at the start of the match, flew up to stab him in the back. Volithur didn’t even notice until he felt the impact on his aura push him forward. Dorian swung his own spear to hit Volithur across the face.
