The Paladin Archives Book Two The Withering Falseblade

by Jason Psilopoulos

  “How long Mr. Cortez?” Donavan didn’t like what he was seeing. His chief engineer was becoming obsessed.

  “Another few hours. I’ll have it under control by then.” Donavan wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t believe him.

  “Half the systems on this ship are being affected by the vibrations of this thing. If you can’t get it under control soon, I’ll be forced to take it off-line.” Sage turned at that, his face a little more panicked than it had been a moment before.

  “Donavan-” He stopped, his voice stinging of threat. He composed himself quietly. “Captain. This is a delicate piece of equipment. You can’t just flick a switch and expect it to pop off like a light bulb. There is a shutdown procedure that takes almost an hour to complete. If you pull the plug wrong, it could irreparably damage the ship. This thing will screech to a halt and take half the engine room with it.” Donavan put a hand on Sage’s shoulder, trying to relax the young elf. Sage let out a slow sigh.

  “I trust you Sage. It’s just a precaution. I promise I won’t kill your baby unless I have no choice.” Sage nodded, turning back to his console. Donavan turned toward Tracy, leaning in close.

  “Keep an eye on him, will ya?” Tracy nodded, glancing at the engineer.

  “Yes sir,” she muttered. Donavan turned toward the door and headed for the exit. He let the engineering doors part in front of him, then took a look back. He had to believe Sage knew what he was doing. Otherwise, the failure of the Triumphant would be the end of a very short captaincy.

  Chapter 18

  Run of the Princess

  Rebekah didn’t realize how dizzy she was from that last cycle until she came to the edge of the next phase of the course. She leaned on the wall for a moment, shaking her head to clear out the Taser induced cobwebs. It took a moment, but it was necessary.

  The next area was circular, not more than fifty feet across. The floor was slightly concave, coming to a pointed aperture in the middle. The ceiling was a mirror of it, coming to a point also. Every inch of the floor of covered in multi-colored tiles. Rebekah saw reds, greens, blues and yellows. There was a swirling pattern to the tiles, but Rebekah wasn’t sure what it could mean. The start line was before her. She depressed the hint button and listened carefully.

  “Combat Miss Norik. But you have two opponents. Both have a particular pattern and a specific color that coincides with the colors on the floor. Your strikes must be timed correctly, or an unfortunate penalty will be incurred. Your time will be tallied according to proper and improper strikes. Proper strikes will not accrue time. Improper ones will. Good luck.” Rebekah hadn’t ever been much for timed fighting. Darius and the Highmaster had tried to teach her timed fighting techniques with a blocking dummy and a metronome. But Rebekah hadn’t fared well.

  “No better teacher than experience,” she remembered the Highmaster saying. Darius must’ve killed in this cycle. She looked at the clock. Only a few seconds. Rebekah toed the line, taking in a breath. She entered and started forward. A door opened on her left and another on her right. The two warriors that stepped out were garbed in an armor suit that seemed to shift its colors every few seconds. Rebekah could see the pattern. The colors of the floor were flashing through the armor in time. But both were different.

  The left warrior was blinking in a red, green, blue, and yellow pattern. The right warrior was yellow, blue, green, and red. They began toward her, and Rebekah set her feet. But the floor didn’t leave them set for very long.

  “Great,” she groaned. The floor was undulating, the tiles all pulsing upward and downward a few inches in time with the warrior’s color patterns. Rebekah felt like she was walking on a rubber floor, but she managed to keep her balance and confront her attackers.

  They weren’t fast, but she wasn’t sure when to strike. The color pattern and the floor pattern. She knew the two coincided somehow. But she was too busy defending herself to think about it. She decided to take a chance and struck the left warrior, who was currently green. A buzzer sounded, and Rebekah ducked a swinging strike.

  The tile beneath her foot stopped undulating and shot upward, a long, slender pole attached to it. Rebekah fell over backwards, landing in a heap on the floor. The tile didn’t lower itself back into place, instead sealing itself against the ceiling. But Rebekah could see what the ‘unfortunate consequence’ was. The tile had been green.

  Rebekah tried to work out what it could mean, but she wasn’t having a lot of luck with it. She was tired and confused. Her brain just didn’t work right when she was tired.

  “How’s she supposed to get through that again?” Ian asked, checking her time. Darius had finished the course in just under seven minutes. Rebekah was pushing four right now. Marcus was watching intently, his eyes never leaving the scene. Ian could see the concern and helplessness on his face. He wanted to be in there helping.

  “She has to figure out the overlap in the patterns and strike when the colors are different,” Darius droned. “The training for this hones mental clarity, allowing the dragoon to think clearly and calmly during any combat situation. But she was never good at this. I tried to show her. She refused to learn it.” Marcus smirked at the complaint.

  “Rebekah’s a very stubborn woman. She might surprise you.” Darius glanced up at the young paladin and scowled.

  “Being stubborn does not make up for proper training and knowledge.” Marcus shook his head.

  “I don’t know Mister March. I’ve seen stubborn people do some amazing things. You’d be surprised how many times someone’s will has been the only difference. The will to achieve sometimes makes up for what we lack.” Darius didn’t buy into that. The training was all. If the training was sound, the warrior was complete.

  “I’m getting tired of this,” Rebekah said, wiping sweat from her face. Somewhere in the mess of newly positioned poles, her helmet was lying on the floor. She’d lost it after a rising pylon had caught her in the cheek. She didn’t have time to find it since her assailants were stepping up their attack. She was doing her best not to get knocked out, and she was looking at thirty some odd poles now, all making it hard to maneuver. And each pole meant a one second time penalty. She had started using them for defense, but they were only slowing these two down a fraction.

  Any time I hit them, a pole pops up. It doesn’t seem to matter, but it seems like it’s always one I happen to be standing on, she thought. She ducked another backhand and tried to roll away. She nearly split herself on a pole she’d raised only moments before. She was running out of room, and fast.

  Too many hits. Stop hitting them. Rebekah took a long breath and set herself against the wall. The attackers came right at her. She braced herself and waited. The two started moving to surround her, cutting off her left and right escapes. Not that she was planning to go those directions.

  Here goes everything, she thought. I hope this works. The two attacked at the same instant. Rebekah shifted her weight, dodging an attack from the right and surprising the other fighter. She twisted his body around, not striking him, but restrained him, squeezing until the holographic form went limp.

  She tossed him aside, not sure if that was what she needed to do, but feeling good with a minor victory. The second assailant came at her, swinging wildly and springing into the air. He was bouncing off the poles, keeping himself airborne. Rebekah did her best not to react with any kind of strike.

  The attacker flipped and rolled in midair, landing hard and stamping his heel down on Rebekah’s foot. She gritted her teeth from the pain, but did not strike. Her attacker grabbed her by the throat and did his best to squeeze the air from her. Rebekah thrashed about, trying to break the grip without hitting the warrior. In her effort, she noticed her helmet on the ground beside her. Heck of a time to notice that, girl! She started to see spots on her vision. The edges of her view were darkening.

  That tile’s red, she thought, seeing her foot pinned beside the helmet. The warrior was red. Rebekah let out a battle cry, throwing both arms
up into her attacker’s and breaking his grip. She felt the tile shift. The attacker looked down in surprise as Rebekah hooked her foot into her helmet, kicking it upward into the warrior’s head. The tile beneath her boot rocketed upward, cracking the warrior in the face and knocking him cold. Rebekah turned toward the door, hearing it hiss open.

  About time, she thought. That’s when the room started to rumble. Rebekah didn’t need a scanning device to know what was happening. The poles were starting to crack. She made a beeline for the exit, scooping up her helmet and diving out before the room could swallow her.

  “This place is starting to get annoying.”

  “Three more,” Uther said softly. Mary could almost feel the rise in concern in her three classmates. Uther’s fur was rippling and Jack was leaning forward in his seat. Even Ellis was locked on the action, only showing any lack of concentration when he glanced at her.

  “She’s got almost two minutes before she’s over time,” Jack informed them. Not that they couldn’t read the display on the monitor.

  “She can do it,” Ellis said simply. Mary stole a glance out of the corner of her eye. Ellis really did look concerned.

  The Hint marker wasn’t much help this time. Rebekah needed more to go on than just “Run”. She was facing another long hallway, but this one had long, thin pipes running across the hall, keeping anyone from running very far or very fast. Still, she didn’t have much of a choice, and she started forward.

  A few dives and slides into it, and the walls started closing behind her. The clock was ticking already, and the way through was disappearing, rapidly. Rebekah tried not to panic and kept going. But the pipes were getting more densely placed.

  Fifty feet, she thought.

  The pipes were getting thicker, and Rebekah could feel the displaced air from the closing walls. She was not moving as quickly as she had hoped, having to duck and vault to keep in motion.

  Thirty feet.

  Rebekah put her hand on a pipe to keep from hitting her head on it. It scorched her. The pipe was scalding. She took a second to see the others ahead of her. They were all the same, each one pulsing with heat that she knew had to be water or steam of some kind. She was careful not to touch them again as she scurried under a low portion.

  The walls were closing faster now, cutting off any kind of retreat. Rebekah had to think quickly about the best route through these pipes. Backing up to find another path was not an option.

  "Oww!" she yelped, here leg touching a low stretching tube. She was starting to sweat from all the heat. If she didn't get out of it soon, she'd sweat into her eyes. Rebekah hated getting sweat in her eyes.

  Fifteen feet.

  One of the pipes ahead of her had burst. The floor was covered in a thick black liquid. She could only guess it was oil. She didn’t dare put her feet down in it. Fortunately, a set of ladder rungs stretched across the ceiling. But each rung was separated by a scalding pipe. Rebekah didn’t have time to consider it. She grabbed the rung and started swinging for it.

  She reached for her fourth rung and missed, her fingers slapping against another sweltering pipe. She pulled back immediately, and almost lost her entire grip for the effort. Her body swung backward at a strange angle, leaving her feeling weightless for a split second. It made her heart catch in her throat. Her wrist made contact with another pipe, but the armor she wore took the heat for her. Rebekah willed herself forward and snagged the rung, swinging forward into a better position.

  But the closing hallway was right on her tail.

  Five feet.

  She only had a little bit more to go. But the next part was tricky. There was no floor. Somewhere in her climbing, the floor had descended. She would have to shimmy along the walls, her sweaty hands pressed against one side, her feet planted on the other. And she would have to do it without slipping, before the walls started closing on her. To top it off, she had to go around a seven-inch pipe in the middle of the wall.

  I’m never doing this again. Rebekah flattened her palms against the wall and set her feet, moving herself slowly toward the finish line for the cycle. It seemed like an eternity as she positioned herself above the pipe and scuttled sideways over it. The ceiling was considerably higher here, so she didn't feel cramped going over the pipe. She watched the wall close next to her as she moved. She only had to go a few more inches.

  The wall started to move, but not inward. Rebekah felt her grip going, and she dove backwards, hooking her arms around the pipe she’d just passed. It was cold. She was surprised, but relieved. The problem was the condensation was making her grip almost impossible to keep.

  She couldn’t get her legs to stretch far enough to catch the ledge ahead of her. She was stuck unless she could figure out how to get across. It was only a couple of feet altogether, and maybe four feet down. She readjusted her grip again, still feeling it slip as she did.

  The solution is there, Highmaster Troius used to tell her. Just relax and let it come. Rebekah closed her eyes and breathed. Without saying a word, she whipped up her legs, hooking them around the pipe and allowing herself to hang by her knees. Her grip with her legs was much steadier than her hands.

  All right Highmaster. We’ll try it your way. Rebekah rocked a little, getting her momentum going. She still had her eyes closed, but she was in motion. She knew where everything was in that moment. She pitched upward, bringing herself to a sitting position on the pipe.

  Just focus, she thought. Rebekah planted her hands on the pipe between her knees, raising her body up until her entire weight was on her palms, her legs held out in a basic gymnastic balance beam straddle press handstand. She held the position for several moments, doing a quick mental check of her balance, before shifting, planting her heels in the pipe and kicking herself backwards off the cylinder. Her momentum carried her backward into a tuck, which she unfolded from perfectly, landing on her feet well beyond the finish line. Her eyes opened, and she watched as the wall continued outward, and the pipe came loose, falling some thirty feet to the floor below. It took a few seconds, but Rebekah heard the distant echoing bang as the pipe hit bottom.

  That leaves two more, she sighed inwardly. She wasn’t thinking about time anymore. She just wanted to be finished. She moved toward the next cycle and stopped dead in her tracks. Ahead of her, framed by a simple doorway, was nothing. No light, no floor, no ceiling. The room ahead of her was a void, without even sound.

  “Anyone can move across a lit room," the hint marker said. "But what will you do if you cannot see?” Rebekah glanced again at the void in front of her. It had to have a floor at least. Nobody could be expected to just leap off into nothing and find a door.

  "Anybody know what the floor plan is?" Jack asked as he watched with a nervous excitement. The last time he'd watched anyone in the Tumbler, it was no one he knew. This was a whole different experience when it was someone he respected.

  "There is not a set plan," Uther said quietly. "The final two cycles are more personal in nature. Miss Norik is no doubt facing some long-forgotten fear. Or perhaps a challenge that she must personally conquer." Jack frowned.

  "Rebekah's afraid of the dark?" Ellis asked, not believing the answer could possibly be yes.

  "Not the dark itself, but what may be within it." Uther's eyes were closed. He was reading her from all the way up here.

  Rebekah paced beside the start line for nearly the full rest period. This wasn't right. There was nothing there. How could she just walk off into nothing? It didn't make a lot of sense for anyone else to have finished the Tumbler if this was the seventh cycle.

  "Ten seconds," she muttered as she looked at the clock. She glanced at the void again. Something about it made her think of Mordred in that moment. His mask was so penetrating and opaque. Light did not escape it. It was the deepest blackness she had ever experienced. She did not want to approach that darkness. Not even this close.

  Just believe, she heard in her mind. Marcus had said that to her so long ago. She looked out towar
d the camera, knowing she would never be able to see Marcus from here. But he could see her. He was there with her. His faith was placed in her. She steeled herself and turned.

  "Just believe," she mumbled. The blackness seemed to shift, and Rebekah thought she saw the darkness become a great black hand. It reached for her threateningly. The frame of the door warp and twisted, peeling away and leaving only the gnarled hand in empty space. It became a mass of tendrils that tried to wrap her in its grip. Rebekah shook her head and snapped her eyes shut hard. When she opened them again, the door was again just a door.

  With a grunt, she lurched forward into darkness. The world was cold and without form for a split second. Rebekah expected her foot to touch down on solid ground. The world felt wrong and false for a moment, until she finally found purchase on the floor. She expected to see something horrific before her. Images she wasn’t sure she could even comprehend. After a moment, she opened her eyes again only to find herself in a room of light. The blackness had been an illusion. The door had been a test of faith. Now, before her was the final hint marker.

  "Now comes the hard part," Marcus said quietly. Ian glanced at him.

  "And the rest of that wasn't?" Marcus shook his head. The final cycle wasn't easily describable. In fact, Marcus wasn't really sure what it was that Rebekah had to face now. But he knew it would be both great and terrible.

  "Agility, strength, dexterity, timing, critical thinking, drive. All of these things you have proven yourself to possess. Even an inkling of faith in the face of fear. But now, the final cycle is before you. Not a physical trial and not a mental exercise. Face your worst nightmare!" Rebekah looked across the start line, and between herself and the finish line, not five feet away, was a person.