Just as wind is the practice of the air and waves are the practice of the water, combat is the practice of the Grievar.
Passage Three, Sixth Precept of the Combat Codes
Cego took deep breaths of the frigid morning air as he raced up Kalabasas Hill. The snows had fallen heavy last night. His boots crunched into the frozen white as he paced himself for the second half of the course, where the steep ascent began, and climbed all the way to the summit.
Though his indigo second skin served to keep the frost from forming on his arms and legs, the material did nothing to prevent the cold from blasting his face. He caught sight of the next runner up; Kōri Shimo leapt over a fallen tree and disappeared over a ridge, out of Cego’s sight.
Cego usually was neck and neck with Shimo on Kalabasas; the boy wasn’t particularly fast, but he kept a meticulous pace through the entire course. Apparently, even years of training in the onyx didn’t improve cardio conditioning, though, at least not enough to let them catch the front-runners.
Cego could picture Sol nipping at Damyn Zular’s heels—his teammate had nearly won the course and caught the lanky Desovian last week. He had a strange urge to pick up the pace, to try to catch Sol and run beside her, though he knew it would be impossible at this point.
He nearly slipped on an icy rock but recovered by scrambling with his hands in the snow. He glanced back and saw Gryfin Thurgood ten meters behind him. Cego was amazed at Gryfin’s endurance despite his heavy, muscle-bound frame.
Thurgood had the best of it all: purelight breeding, the adoration of his fellow classmates, and a straight path forward in life. Gryfin knew he was destined to be a Knight that fought for Ezo; every boy in his family had done so for ten consecutive generations.
Cego scrambled harder up the icy slope, trying to get away from Gryfin and close the distance to Shimo ahead.
He wondered how it would feel to not have the weight of indecision constantly atop his shoulders, not knowing what his next step forward would be. What would it be like to be born into a family when everything was already decided? He thought back to his conversation with Shimo: Was it possible for Cego to accept it all?
Even Kōri Shimo didn’t understand, though. What would Cego accept? Was he to accept his unorthodox brooding and the fact he was created to become a weapon for the Daimyo? Or would he accept his place as the brother of Silas the Slayer, leader of the Flux rebellion, set on eradicating the Daimyo from this planet?
He was caught between two worlds: one serving the Daimyo and the other set to destroy them.
Cego pushed his pace as he hit a slight downward dip on the course. He let his legs flow under him, carrying him over the icy patches without hesitation. Luckily, he kept his balance and was able to catch Shimo on the downhill as the two started to ascend again toward the summit.
“Here we are again,” Cego breathed heavily.
Kōri Shimo didn’t acknowledge him; the boy ran as stoically as he fought.
Cego figured he’d distract himself from the burning frost against his face and the cramps that had begun to rack his legs. “Makes sense we’ve got near-equal cardio, right?”
Again, Shimo answered with silence, the sound of their boots digging into the packed snow.
“We’re both grown in vats,” Cego exhaled. “I figure the material they used to grow us was the same. Like two mechs, built on the same assembly line.”
“Perhaps,” Kōri Shimo finally responded as they bounded across the rocks rising from a frozen stream.
“Makes me feel like darkin’ shit,” Cego huffed, nearly hearing Murray’s voice as the words left his mouth. “How many more of us are there, near exactly the same?”
“Is it not so with all Grievar?” Kōri Shimo said with a steady breath. “Bloodlines, passed down for generations.”
“It’s different.” Cego ducked under a hanging branch weighed down by the ice. “Having parents is different.”
Shimo was quiet as they worked toward the final ascent. Cego could make out Sol sprinting across the straightaway above, nearly breathing down the Desovian girl’s neck.
“It’s true,” Shimo said. “We’re made from near-identical molds.”
The frost wind began to blow in earnest, and Cego seemed to be running in slow motion, pushing against it.
“But.” Shimo’s cold breath came out in steady puffs. “You still have your own will. If you decide to push harder now, can you beat me?”
Cego glanced at Kōri Shimo and set his jaw. “Guess we’ll find out.”
Cego made the decision to put it all into the final ascent. He’d make it ahead of Kōri Shimo even if it meant his heart giving out as he crossed the finish.
He saw Kōri Shimo steel his focus beside him and guessed the boy meant to do the same. They raced side by side, pushing against the frozen wind, clawing for every inch up the incline of Kalabasas Hill.
Gryfin Thurgood fell behind the two, no longer in sight, and Cego could feel his lungs burning as if he’d inhaled a sizzler’s torch. He wasn’t the same as Shimo. The Daimyo, the Bit-Minders, Silas, they couldn’t determine what he thought or did. He had his own will.
A burst of energy ran through Cego’s body, not the blacklight coming to his skin but a different sort of warmth. Images flashed across his mind: running the grueling rounds of Thaloo’s slave yard, fighting the sneering purelights of the Lyceum, facing off against the invincible Goliath in Central Square, screaming as the clerics of Arklight tortured him.
They had tried to hold him back each step of his path. They had tried to put him in the ground every moment they could. But they had not been able to. Cego was still there, breathing this frost air. He wouldn’t stop now.
Cego realized he’d pulled ahead of Shimo and was now sprinting across the straightaway. He saw Sol’s face with a wide smile spread across it as he joined her at the finish.
He fell to his back on the packed snow, his heart pounding as if it might burst from his chest. Sweat beaded and froze along his face. Cego watched the sharp winter light cut through the pines above him.
Sol’s face peered down at him. “You all right?”
“Yeah…” Cego said between labored breaths. His breakfast started to come up, and he quickly rose to his knees to let it loose in the snow.
“Now I’m all right, I guess.” Cego wiped his face and sheepishly met Sol’s chiding smile.
“Happens to the best of us,” she said.
“That does not happen to me,” Kōri Shimo said, standing beside them. He’d stopped to watch Cego retching.
“Right, because you don’t feel what we mortals do.” Sol crossed her arms.
“Sol…” Cego stood slowly, not wanting her to get into it with Shimo.
“You see?” Shimo met Cego’s eyes, breathing hard. “We are the same… but we are different.”
The boy nodded at Sol and walked away, back down the trail and, Cego was sure of it, back to the catacombs.
“He’s… strange,” Sol said. “But I’m okay if you’re training with him. Down there.”
“I wish I’d told you all—”
“No,” Sol said. “Sometimes, we need to do things for ourselves. What I did, leaving the Citadel in search of my father, retrieving his body. I needed to do that for myself. And this is the same for you.”
Cego breathed out. He’d finally worked up the courage to tell Sol about the onyx Circle, but he hadn’t yet discussed it directly with the other Whelps. “Do the rest… Do they understand?”
“Yes,” Sol said. “Dozer’s a bit confused, but he’ll have your back. Like the rest of us.”
“Thank you,” Cego said.
“Cego.” Sol looked down at the ground. “You’re not the only one to keep secrets.”
“There’s nothing you could tell me so that I’d not have your back too,” Cego answered. He meant it.
“Good.” Sol looked up. “You’re also not the only one with a strange breeding. I’m not only a Grievar… I’m a Daimyo.”
“But your father, he’s Artemis Halberd…” Cego’s mind raced.
“My mother was a courtesan,” Sol said. “I never knew her.”
“I don’t care.” The words fell from Cego’s mouth.
“What do you mean, you don’t—” Sol’s brow furrowed.
“I mean, I do care,” Cego tried to explain. “I care about you, but I don’t care who your mother or father was. Of anyone, I have no grounds to judge others on their breeding.”
“Good,” Sol breathed out in relief. She smiled, making Cego want to put his arms around her and bring her close. Instead, he awkwardly raised a hand and lowered it again, staring at the appendage as if it weren’t his own.
The rest of the runners had finished the course and were now hastily making their return to the warmth of the Lyceum, but Cego and Sol stayed atop the hill.
They walked toward the edge of the cliff that overlooked the Citadel’s sprawling grounds. A pair of raptors rode the cold current far above the ancient stone fortress below. They watched the still landscape in silence, until Cego forced himself to turn to the two bulks of frozen earth raised from the ground at the edge of the bluff, beneath a crop of tall, weathered pines.
His breath caught in his chest as he looked down at the mounds.
“Haven’t been here since the ceremony,” Cego said guiltily. “I just… can’t bear it.”
“I understand,” said Sol. “I haven’t either.”
They stood beside each other as the sun crested the tallest pines and glinted against the frost-covered burial sites.
“He’d have liked what you did,” Sol said.
“What, retched all over the ground?” Cego replied.
“Yeah, maybe.” Sol chuckled. “I meant how you pushed it to your limit up that final stretch.”
“I guess so,” Cego said. A flock of starlings screeched as they swooped out from the trees to defend their nest against the hawks, which had slowly spiraled in descent.
“He’d be proud of you, Cego,” Sol said. “I know it. All you’ve done. Coming back home. Training so hard now and pushing your limits. I know Murray-Ku would be proud.”
Tears welled in Cego’s eyes, though he fought hard to stop them. He sniffed the cold air and stared down at Murray’s and Joba’s graves. “Both of them are there because of me, Sol.”
Sol nodded and was quiet for a moment, as if deliberating her next words. “You’re right.”
Cego felt the lump in his throat and hoped his friend wouldn’t leave it at that.
“You’re right that they’re in the ground because of you,” Sol said. “That’s what they wanted. Joba and Murray died because they believed you were worth it. Because they saw the potential in you. Murray from the very beginning, when he picked you out of that slave Circle, and Joba ever since he started watching you with that smile on his face.”
Cego let the tears fall. He didn’t care that Sol saw them. The wetness slid from his face to the frozen earth and became a part of it. He shivered.
“They believed in you. They gave their lives for you,” Sol said. “As hard as that is, as big a burden as that is, they believed you can carry it.”
Sol turned to Cego and met his eyes. Her breath was a warm mist.
“And I believe in you, Cego.”
Sol stepped in close and pressed her lips to his. His tears kept falling as she pushed her warmth against him.