CHAPTER 6

The Purification

There are many outlandish and unorthodox techniques that might work against an unprepared opponent. Such techniques should be studied carefully. However, the mainstay of a Grievar’s martial training should be devoted to proven movements that have stood the test of time.

Passage Three, Seventy-Third Precept of the Combat Codes

Though Murray had to admit he’d taken a liking to Bird, he was glad to be moving on foot.

The crew had left the rocs behind with a Tanri trainer Hanrin had set them up with outside Karstock. Riding in on the birds, especially with massive Firenze in the lead, would attract far too much attention.

Murray cracked his neck side to side as the crew walked the dusty mech road along the outskirts of Karstock, Kiroth’s capital city. They’d purposefully circumvented the High Street that met the city’s main gates and bisected the empire’s seat. The crew instead followed in the fumes of the numerous transport mechs heading to the eastern docks.

From the road, Murray could make out the towering buildings of the empire’s capital, like knobbed fingers protruding from the highlands with the Andal Mountain Range shading the horizon beyond.

West of downtown, Flyers swooped in and out of Karstock Airbase, a massive underground hangar that looked like the maw of some giant beast gaping from the earth. Some of the Flyers streaked in formation over the Andals, likely heading to the Northlands to try to regain control over the Myrkonian Ice Tribes, who had been in rebellion there for over a year now.

It was strange, Murray thought, that he was also there to find Flux rebels. And where they found rebels, he hoped they’d find Cego.

“People live in those darkin’ things?!” Dozer exclaimed over the whir of a heavy transport up ahead. “Nearly up in the clouds?”

The crew watched the city skyline in awe. Most had never even visited Ezo’s Tendrum, seen their own nation’s skyscrapers, which grew from the streets of Daimyo-only districts.

Murray nodded.

“Aren’t they afraid they’ll fall over with some big gust of wind?” the big Grievar asked.

“They build those to resist quakes and storms,” Sol responded, fitting snugly back into her role as the group’s resident expert. “But, yeah, I agree with you. Not a good idea to be up so high.”

The sparse farm homes they passed alongside the mech road started to appear in denser clumps and soon became small factories, smiths, anchor yards, and pubs. Murray could now smell the sea on the air. Featherwing gulls circled overhead, searching for scraps.

“You sure these friends of yours with the Flux, they’ll see us?” Murray turned to Sol.

“No,” Sol replied. “I’m not sure. But I think they trust me after what we went through on the Isles. So, we’ll at least get some information and closer to where Cego might be. And I know they’ve got a direct line to Silas.”

“Hate doing things like this lately,” Murray muttered as they approached the dockyards ahead. He could see the masts of tall ships bobbing above the flat-roofed buildings.

“Doing things like what?” asked Sol.

“Slinking around corners like hawkers,” Murray said. “Laying down lies instead of standing up and fighting.”

“Murray-Ku,” Sol said. “You were the one who told me there’s no way we’d be able to fight our way in. We’d be sealing our own death and leaving Cego with no chance for escape.”

“I know it,” Murray said. “The fight’s not always the one in front of us. But doesn’t mean I like the way we need to go about it.”

Murray’s boot crunched some old fish bones as the crew stepped onto the docks. Giant warehouses, holding the machinery for both old galleons and modern Dyvers, sat beside a variety of pubs to feed and liquor the sailors.

“Hey there, lass!” One such sailor, a Grunt with barely any teeth to call his own, stumbled into the street in front of Sol, tugging on a burner. “Has anyone told you Gastu here prefers the Grievar gals? You can hit me anywhere you like!”

Murray was about to intercede, but Sol met the drunken man with such a fiery look, violence behind her eyes, that he backed away.

“Maybe next time.” The man flipped the burner to the curb and stumbled indoors.

“Nice work,” Brynn said. “Though I’d have put him down for that much.”

“Sometimes, the fight’s not the one in front of us.” Sol looked to Murray and nodded.

The crew followed Sol to one of the wider docks. Multi-sailed barks brimmed on one side and Dyvers with humming elemental engines on the other. Grunts covered all the boats like barnacles, hammering and patching them for the next route. Transport mechs rumbled past the crew to unload their wares into waiting hulls.

Karstock’s docks were one of the world’s foremost trade ports, set on the Adrian Sea to send out rations, elemental alloys, and slaves to every corner of the planet. Murray wasn’t surprised the Flux had set their base of operations there, given the access it would provide them. What he didn’t understand was how the rebels could hide in such plain sight, right beneath the nose of the empire.

“Dock nine,” Sol said, looking up at some scrawled letters hanging from a wooden torii gate. A sleek obsidian Dyver was held partially out of the water by a lift at the end of the dock. The top section of the boat was still dripping wet and had hot fumes coming off its exterior, likely just returned from a trade run.

A cloaked man stood at the ladder entry to the Dyver, his hands folded in front of him. He didn’t waver as Sol approached.

“Hello, Wraith,” Sol said.

“Solara Halberd,” the man responded without surprise, lifting his hood to look out at the crew behind her.

“Wraith, I’d like you to meet Murray Pearson,” Sol said.

Murray stepped forward and nodded at the man called Wraith, his bald head as white as a cleaned bone with scars crisscrossing his face.

“Of course I know of Murray Pearson,” Wraith said, his wolfish eyes twinkling. “I’ve always wanted to see if I might be able to withstand an onslaught of ground-and-pound from the best in the trade.”

Always with the challenges. Murray sighed. “You’d best be hoping you don’t need to see that.”

“We’re not here for sparring, Wraith,” Sol said, stepping between the two men.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing that either,” Dozer said as he made himself apparent.

The big kid grasped Wraith’s hand in greeting even though the pale man didn’t offer it. “I’m Dozer. And this here’s my crew, Knees and Brynn.”

“Your crew?” Brynn stepped forward and smacked Dozer on the back of the head.

“Well… we’re all working together,” Dozer muttered. “But either way, we want in.”

“What is it that you want in with?” Wraith said as he scanned the group with distrust. “You don’t look suited for dock work. In fact, based on those safe-passage fluxes I see, you’ve been on Pilgrimage. What would Pilgrims playing school games want with dock work?”

“We’re not playing any darkin’ game,” Murray interjected. “Sol, let’s get out of here; we can find—”

“Wait, no,” Sol said pleadingly. “You two would get along if you only gave it a chance. And yes, we’ve been on Pilgrimage, but we’re here for more.”

“What did I hear, now?” a voice swung from above, along with a sleek, muscled form that tumbled from the Dyver and landed on the dock. “Sayana, returned in the flesh!”

A smile broke across Sol’s face as she embraced the girl with the shaved head. “N’auri. Kinvasa tuvisi.”

“Kinvasa tuvisi,” N’auri said as she looked Sol up and down. “I was hoping to see you sometime soon.”

“N’auri, we should get back to work,” Wraith said sternly, as he turned back toward the Dyver.

“What, Wraith, you don’t trust our old friend Solara here?” N’auri said. “You the one said we need more dockhands for next big trade run.”

“N’auri.” Wraith spun back. “Solara is a friend. But we don’t need her or any of these others, despite the famous names some of them carry.”

Wraith stared Murray down again, rapidly blinking several times.

“This old Knight?” N’auri stepped toward Murray and gave him a sniff. “Sure, he looks a bit broken, but bet he can still help.”

The Emeraldi girl continued past Murray and stood in front of Dozer. “This one seems thick but looks like he can carry a load on that back.”

“Hey!” Dozer started to protest, but Sol elbowed him.

N’auri stopped in front of Brynn and smiled, getting awkwardly close. “And you got one from the Jade! Bet you can hold your own, eh?”

“You bet right,” Brynn growled, meeting N’auri’s feral stare. “Why don’t we find out?”

Wraith stepped back toward the crew. “It’s good to reunite, Solara, but we don’t need more hands right now.”

“We’re here to see Cego,” Sol said abruptly.

N’auri hissed in her direction. “Don’t say that name out loud here.”

“Well, if Wraith doesn’t want to hear us out, we’ll likely be walking these docks, calling out our old friend’s name,” Sol said. “You want that now?”

Wraith’s eyes blazed. “I like you, Solara Halberd. But that won’t stop me from putting you down if need be.”

Murray started to move for the man. He’d stood face-to-face with too many killers to let this one threaten his crew.

N’auri intercepted him, standing in front of Wraith with her hands out. “Wraith, let us hear them out; least we can do to prevent losing our position here on the docks, right?”

Wraith didn’t say anything for several moments. Finally, the pale man nodded and gestured toward the Dyver beside them.

“We speak inside.”

Sol descended the ladder into the top of the Dyver, feeling as if she were crawling into the blowhole of some sea beast.

“Isn’t this against the Codes or something?” Dozer asked from above as a flashing crimson light illuminated the entry chute.

N’auri laughed from below. “Codes! Such funny friends you’ve brought with you, Solara.”

Sol leapt down the last several rungs, landing with an echoed clang against the metal floor of the craft’s hold. A glowing cylindrical steel core occupied the center of the room, with another ladder set beside it that led even farther down. Several control panels blinked on one side of the room, and a massive windshield wrapped around the other with the inky black sea pressed up against it.

The rest of the crew filled the hold, Murray’s bulky form coming down the ladder last.

Dozer pressed his face up against the glass window, watching a large, silvery fish shoot by. “Did you see that?”

“Dozer.” Brynn glared at him.

“This is a surveillance-safe space,” Wraith said, standing beside the craft’s core. “So, let’s cut to the kill in case anyone spotted you coming down here.”

“You know what we’re here for, Solara,” N’auri said. “And it’s not loading up no galleons with caucas fruit.”

“I do,” Sol said. “As do the rest of my friends.”

“You’ve betrayed our trust, Solara,” Wraith said. Murray stepped forward aggressively, and Sol knew she had to speak quick.

“I didn’t,” Sol said. “You told me that if I ever wanted to join up, you’d have me. You told me to come to Karstock. Well, now’s that time.”

“We did not tell you to bring strangers along, though,” Wraith said.

“These are my friends,” Sol said. “And they want to join the cause as well. We’ve come a long way.”

Wraith eyed Murray. “Why would a Citadel professor, under the thumb of our enemy, come and join us?”

“Same darkin’ reason you’re here,” Murray growled. “I’m done with it all. The bluebloods controlling us. Fighting for them. I’m ready for my freedom.”

“Maybe so,” Wraith said, his eyes flicking back and forth between Murray and Sol as if trying to decipher some unspoken language. “But what of Cego?”

Brynn stepped forward. “Cego is our friend. We schooled with him, as I’m sure you know. He was Ku’s student. We heard the Slayer had broken him out of Arklight, that he’d joined up with the cause. And we came to do the same.”

“You know who Cego really is, Jadean?” N’auri asked, displaying her sharp teeth to Brynn.

“We know he’s our darkin’ friend,” Dozer said to N’auri. “Do you know where he is?”

Wraith stepped in front of N’auri protectively, his cold eyes meeting Dozer’s. “Back off, now.”

Sol could feel the situation getting away from them. They’d come to the docks to find out where Cego was, not end up in a bloodbath beneath the waters.

The fight is not always the one in front of you.

“We know Cego is the Slayer’s brother,” Sol said. “As Dozer mentioned, he’s our friend. And if Cego follows the Slayer, so will we.”

“And we be wanting the chance to put some soap-eaters in the ground,” Knees added. “They sold me to slave Circles when I was a little kik. I’m here to repay that debt.”

Wraith’s eyes flitted across the crew and met Murray’s again. “The one you knew as Cego… he isn’t here any longer.”

Murray’s fists balled up, and Sol was worried about that bloodbath once again. “Where the dark is he, then?”

“What Wraith means is your friend is far different than you knew him,” N’auri explained. “They don’t call him Cego, for one.”

“What do they call him, then?” Dozer asked, his eyes wide now.

“The Strangler,” Wraith said, almost begrudgingly. “He’s second only to the Slayer himself in disposing of Daimyo targets.”

The crew was silent for too long.

“Times like these change us all,” Murray said, breaking the silence. “Doesn’t make a difference far as what we want: to join up with the Flux. And I plan on making a run on the kid’s kill count soon as you tell us how we darkin’ get started.”

A faint smirk finally broke across Wraith’s face. They’d gotten through. Now they needed to make their move while defenses were down.

“I knew you two would get along,” Sol said.

Wraith looked out into the inky water. “I run the operation here in the dockyard. We’re about twenty strong, working for the Daimyo during the day and running ops at night. Slayer and Strangler are in and out, going after high-value targets across the empire and recruiting new conscripts.”

“Makes sense,” Murray said. “I’ve done the same, working for the bluebloods. I know how they think, that we’re fulfilling our paths by serving them. They can’t see past their own darkin’ arrogance.”

“So, is it true what I’ve heard from our sources in the Deep?” Wraith asked. “That you destroyed one of the trade lords?”

Murray nodded, meeting Sol’s eyes. “Yes.”

“You’ve done the Flux a service, then,” Wraith said. “The Slayer will be pleased to hear it. Our goal is to hit the Daimyo vital points: mining operations, stim, and mech production.”

“We took out the biggest rubellium reserve west of the capital only last week,” N’auri said. “It was glory, to see those slave mines go up in flames.”

“Spirits be asked, I’d like to see something like that.” Brynn smiled.

“And you will, Jadean,” N’auri said. “First steps, though. Wraith, what you say? Should we put these ones in the purifier?”

“The purifier?” Dozer asked. “What’s that, some initiation to join up with the gang?”

N’auri pulled her worker’s leathers over the top of her head, displaying her taut, ebony-muscled frame. “What you notice here, big boy?”

“Uh…” Dozer stared at the near-naked Besaydian.

“No fluxes,” Sol said. “You’ve gone and removed all your flux tattoos.”

“They are a symbol of Daimyo control,” Wraith said, blinking rapidly. “They brand their slaves with them. Their schools promote fluxes to show off the deeds of Grievar brood. And their champions proudly wear the fluxes they win, though the designs only flaunt their forced service to the Daimyo.”

“You mean… you’ve got a way to take the tattoos off of us?” Dozer stuttered.

“Yes,” Wraith said. “No rebels will have a painted body. The words of the Slayer himself. We have purification machinery in this Dyver that will take them off cleanly.”

“It won’t be without pain, though.” N’auri bared her sharp teeth again.

Sol shuddered. She’d never cared too much for the tattoos she’d earned at the Lyceum, the little Whelp design that still hatched along her neck. But she knew Dozer prided himself on the fluxes he’d earned; each was a symbol of what the big kid had fought so hard for all the way out of the slave Circles.

And Murray. Sol eyed the ex-Knight, not sure how he’d react. The man had won champion fluxes from Circles across the world, defending the nation of Ezo. Those fluxes etched across Murray’s body displayed his legendary path, all the man had fought for and believed in.

Most Knights would die before having their fluxes removed.

“Let’s get it done,” Murray said as he pulled his vest off.

The Whelps stood in the back compartment of the Dyver, which looked like a storage room. Knees noticed this craft commandeered by the rebels appeared to have a specific purpose, though.

Six steel capsules stood upright in the room, a small glass window embedded in each.

“Once, these were cryo-coffins.” Wraith invited the crew into the neon-lit room. “Containers the Daimyo use to bury their kind.”

“Why in the dark would any person want to go under in a steel box?” Murray asked.

“To be kept alive,” Wraith said. “Even after prolonging their lives beyond the natural order of things, even when death finally calls to them, the Daimyo still seek to further the coil, freeze themselves in the hopes that someday they will be revived with ever more advanced tech.”

“Still don’t darkin’ understand why you got to take our fluxes,” Dozer growled.

Knees eyed his big friend and knew how he felt. The two had talked of getting flux tattoos from the Lyceum ever since they’d been fighting for Tasker Ozark in the slave Circles together.

“If you are ready to give yourself to the cause, all the previous vestiges of your Daimyo-controlled lives must be erased,” Wraith said.

“But I earned these…” Dozer argued, pointing to the glowing lizard on his bicep. “Fought in the Circle to get them. Bled for ’em. No Daimyo gifted these to me.”

“Didn’t they?” N’auri interrupted. “You thinking too small, big guy. You got the fluxes at your Citadel. Who the Citadel training students for? Who those Knights fighting for in the end? For themselves? No, for them bluebloods.”

“But—”

Murray placed a hand on Dozer’s shoulder, grasping it hard and meeting the boy’s eyes. Murray ripped the shirt off his back, revealing dozens of fluxes he’d earned as a student, a Knight, and a champion. Dozer watched the patterns in awe.

“I also earned mine,” Murray said. “But some things must change, and these designs don’t define you.”

Murray turned to Wraith. “Let’s get this over with.”

N’auri moved alongside the steel capsules, waving her hand over a lightpad on each. The curved doors to the compartments slid open, cold smoke drifting from the innards.

“You be sure these things aren’t still coffins?” Knees asked warily as he stripped off his shirt and approached one.

“Yes, they’ve been repurposed,” Wraith replied. “They’ll cleanse the Daimyo filth from your backs, make you whole again.”

Murray stepped into a capsule, his large frame filling the entire thing. The door slid shut and a mist swirled around his face in the small window.

Knees watched Sol pull down the nape of her shirt and look at the little Whelp flux peering back at her, admonishing her with its wide eyes before it slithered back across her shoulder. The girl took stock of the fiery roc flux she’d had done at Cantino’s compound, the proud bird stalking across her opposite shoulder. Knees knew the take, he knew what Sol had gone through in her adventure across the world to recover her father’s body.

Sol shook her head, sighed, and walked into her capsule.

“For Cego,” Knees whispered to Dozer before stepping inside his own capsule, feeling the cold mist surround him as the door slid shut. He removed his clothes and stared out the window, watching first Brynn and then Dozer as the last to reluctantly step in.

Knees shivered, thinking about being stuck in this box. He thought about Cego, how his friend had grown up in such a capsule, spending his entire childhood in the Cradle. He thought about his own experience in the Sim during the Trials, the darkness that had crept into him and been so hard to shake, that still lived somewhere within him.

He watched N’auri pull a handle on the wall panel, and the darkness within his capsule was replaced with brilliant light. Knees clamped his eyes shut, but the light pierced his lids.

His body began to burn, as if someone had set fire to it.

Knees screamed, pounded his hand against the glass in a desperate attempt at survival. These rebels had tricked them. They were incinerating them. The fire burned hotter and the pain became more excruciating.

Abruptly, the light dissipated and an ice-cold, soothing mist enveloped Knees’s body. He crumpled to the floor in relief, slowly opening his eyes as the bright flares receded from the darkness of his lids. He looked down at his body. His flux tattoos were gone, only naked skin where the designs had been etched. The little whelp with the curious eyes had vanished.

Knees slowly stood and dressed. He pushed the inside of the capsule and the door released, letting in the warmth from the Dyver.

Sol and Brynn were outside with Murray, looking solemn. They were doing the right thing. This was for Cego.

Dozer’s compartment was still closed. Knees could see his big friend standing in the window. “Dozer okay?”

Murray nodded. “Give him a minute.”

“Welcome to the Flux!” N’auri smiled with her sharp teeth. “How do you feel?”

Murray looked down at his naked arms, absent the many trophies he’d won through his career. “I feel ready.”

“Better now that I’m out of that thing,” Brynn said as she pulled the shirt back over her head.

Dozer’s capsule door swung open and the big Grievar walked out, slowly. He’d only put his trousers on and was looking down at his bare body as if it weren’t his own. Knees could tell his friend was trying to hold it together, but a deep sob racked the big kid’s body and he fell to his knees.

He knelt beside Dozer. “It’ll be all right. More, bigger prizes to earn ahead, my friend.”

Dozer looked at him through misty eyes. “I don’t feel myself anymore.”

Knees nodded; neither did he.

Sol offered Dozer her hand, hefting the big boy back to his feet.

“We’ve done this now for the cause; we’ve removed what we were,” Sol said softly to Wraith. “So, now what will you have us do?”

Wraith’s eyes fluttered. “That you have. I’m glad to have so many proven Grievar added to our ranks. I know the Slayer will be pleased as well.”

“We’re not here to please the Slayer.” Murray pulled his studded vest back on and cracked his neck. “We’re here to bring down the Daimyo.”

“And you will, in due time,” Wraith said. “But you must realize, as new initiates to the Flux, you still must be tested and trained to ensure you are ready for the mission when it comes to you.”

“Once you step in shit, you gotta keep walking across the field,” Murray muttered.

“What was that?” Wraith asked.

“Something an old man used to say to me,” Murray replied. “So, take us to this new test of yours, this training.”

“Guard duty on the docks to start for you.” N’auri chuckled as she opened one of the storage closets, pulled down a stack of black uniforms, and handed them out to the crew. “Start where we all did, watching shipments come in and out, make sure they’re protected. Like the Daimyo watch their goods, we need to keep an eye on our own retrievals.”

“You mean to say”—Murray shook his head—“now that you’ve had us burn up our fluxes in one of those death traps, you’ll have us sitting on our asses, watching hawkers deal out goods?”

Wraith nodded. “Call it what you want; it’s important work that needs to be done. The Flux has forces amassing across the empire, and they need these shipments to sustain their momentum.”

“What about raids? Going after the good stuff?” Dozer stood up. “Getting to work with the Strangler and the Slayer.”

Knees glared at his friend. They couldn’t appear too eager.

“I understand you want to be reunited with your old friend, the one who used to be called Cego,” Wraith said. “As I told you, he’s often on the move to track and destroy high-value targets. So, do not expect to see him until he needs you, until you can be fully trusted to take on the task.”

Dozer looked like he was about to protest but luckily shut his mouth.

“Let’s be doing this,” Knees said, pulling his black uniform over his head. “Guard duty it is.”