The Lost Puzzler Page 24

  When in position, Rafik tapped his wristpiece twice, sending his crew a signal and probably alerting everyone else to his whereabouts as well. Now it was only a matter of time against skill. He took off his gauntlet and flexed his fingers several times and placed them at the edge of the holes. Then he drew a deep breath and closed his eyes before pushing his fingers all the way in. It was a technique he’d found to be helpful in minimizing disorientation when changing into what Master Goran called “the puzzle dimension.”

  This was a difficult lock, Rafik realised as soon as he settled in, a puzzle of a magnitude and size he’d succeeded in solving only two times before. Even as he went to work, shifting and holding patterns, Rafik was acutely aware of his defencelessness, sitting on his knees with his eyes closed and his fingers shoved inside the lock. If the enemy found Rafik before his crew, he was done for. The wall of symbols changed and moved as everything swam before his eyes. He lost two strains, and for the life of him he could not latch on to any other pattern. As panic began to rise in his chest, a memory from training echoed in his mind.

  “See this symbol?”

  “The snake with three heads?”

  “Yes, I can see why you would call it that, yes, the hydra. Have you seen it before?”

  “I . . . I’m not sure . . . maybe . . .”

  “Try to remember . . . look . . . here . . . here, and here, each is a part of the whole symbol.”

  “Yes, I see it now.”

  “I have studied thousands of puzzles, Rafik, and I have found that patterns are not just a game of random chance, they are more like a language. Perhaps the pattern is a sentence we do not yet know how to read, or a formula, or a name. Whenever you see this particular symbol know that there are only six possible combinations. One of them is the triangle with the ellipse inside, see? Over here . . .”

  “Yes, I see it now.”

  “Good boy. Now the next part is easier, but the end of the pattern keeps changing, so I guess we’ll have to rely on your instinct, look here . . . and here . . .”

  And suddenly Rafik saw the full pattern of the puzzle lock clearly before his eyes. Heart pounding with excitement, Rafik took hold of the pattern and watched as it converged before him into one symbol.

  When he opened his eyes, the door was slowly swinging open. The corridor behind him was still empty. He had to move forward and hope that his crew would find him before the enemy did. He got to his feet and rubbed the stiffness out of his knees as he walked through the door. Then a sudden whining noise came from within the darkness of the room. Too late, he realised what it was and tried to duck, but the blast hit him straight in the chest, lifting him up in the air and then pounding him against the door.

  Lying on his back, Rafik experienced the familiar feeling of paralysis he’d come to know in the past few months. But familiarity did not make it any more comfortable. He lay there, gasping for breath, and kept trying to blink and not panic. Heavy steps echoed in the room, and Kurk came into view, grinning broadly.

  “You’re an oil smear, Puzzler,” he said. With an expert flick of his thumb he recharged the stun gun and aimed it at Rafik. “Maybe I should shoot you again, though, just to be sure.”

  A second hit from the stun gun would not only hurt like hell, it would also extend the paralysis, perhaps even cause Rafik to faint from lack of air. He knew this because he’d already experienced the feeling a few times before. Kurk was Rafik’s bane, never missing an opportunity to show the younger boy exactly who was inferior. Now it seemed that Kurk was about to make his point again, and there was nothing Rafik could do to stop him.

  Just as Kurk’s finger touched the trigger, Rafik heard Naava’s voice coming from where he guessed was the entrance: “What’s going on here?” There was a short pause, and then Rafik’s team leader spoke again. “Rafik’s down, it’s over.”

  Kurk shouldered his weapon, looking disappointed as Rafik’s crew came into the room, followed by two training teachers. By the time the others arrived, Rafik could move again. He rose slowly only to be confronted by his angry teammates.

  “What did I tell you to do?” Naava poked Rafik in the chest hard enough to make him stagger back. “What were the orders?”

  “To stay in the safe zone,” admitted Rafik. Then he tried to explain. “But I had to move. Kurk’s team was too close and had at least two snipers on me, and no one could find Donn—he just vanished.”

  “Well, thin wires, you just earned us two weeks of kitchen duty,” someone muttered behind Naava.

  The training teachers were already calling the rest of the teams for the posttraining briefing, but Rafik was still upset. “It’s completely unfair,” he complained loudly. “Kurk was waiting behind a puzzle-locked door, which I solved, and he”—Rafik pointed at Kurk—“was not part of the yellow team, he was just a trap. I solved the puzzle and entered the node, so we won.”

  The tactical combat teacher, a squat woman with fiery red hair named Mistress Havanna, turned to Rafik. “Stop making excuses. Your actions today were nothing short of a disgrace.”

  Rafik felt a blush paint his face as she recounted his blunders: “First you disobeyed a direct order from your crew leader. Second, you moved away from the safe zone without any protection, then you tried to open the lock without waiting for your crew, and finally, for some reason which I can’t even imagine, you decided to enter the node. What did I tell you time and time again? Never walk into a node. Solving a puzzle does not mean you are free to walk in, and even if, for some reason, you must walk in, you do not walk in the way you did.” Mistress Havanna turned to Master Goran, who’d entered the room during her speech. “Your boy might be able to solve puzzles but he will die on his first shallow run. What he needs is some serious combat training with emphasis on discipline.”

  Master Goran shook his head. “I’m sorry. You may be right about Rafik’s poor combat skills and lack of discipline, but we cannot afford to take any more time away from his studies.”

  “He’ll be no use to us dead.”

  “And he’ll be no use to us if he fails to pass the puzzle locks,” Master Goran responded calmly. “If Rafik moved away from the designated safe zone, it was because someone left him unguarded. The crew needs to learn to control and protect their Puzzler better. Everything else is secondary.”

  Mistress Havanna grunted her disapproval but didn’t argue further. Instead, she congratulated Kurk and announced the reward for the winning team: a one-week curfew extension and a gate pass for one afternoon. Rafik’s team was assigned extra kitchen duty and, as usual, had to clean and tidy the entire combat zone from the remnants of the battle. Rafik wouldn’t have minded sharing the burden with his crew. After all, in his heart he knew Mistress Havanna was right: it was his fault they’d lost. But as usual, Master Goran intervened and excused him from the punishment in favor of more puzzle training. It happened every time, and Rafik knew that it alienated him from the other trainees and even a few of the teachers, who thought Rafik was getting undeserved privileges for being a Puzzler. No one seemed to remember that he was also forbidden to enjoy the perks—that leaving the premises of the guild school, the usual reward, was forbidden to Rafik under any circumstances.

  They were about to disperse when they heard a commotion coming from the direction of the main gates. For a moment everyone froze, then Mistress Havanna, hand pressed against her ear Comm, ordered, “To the main courtyard, on the double, now!” They all ran, except Master Goran, who limped calmly behind them.

  Lord Keenan was already waiting, surrounded by a large entourage of guards and advisors. The trainees quickly got into formation and, at the signal from Master Hopp, the gatekeeper, bowed in unison and shouted, “Keenan, Respect!” three times. Lord Keenan nodded his approval and returned salutes before moving to inspect the trainees. It amazed Rafik how short and fat the man was, for stories about Lord Keenan’s ferocity in battle made Rafik imagine him as a hulking giant of a Troll. In real life, he barely reached Ku
rk’s shoulders, but power radiated from him, and Rafik found himself bending on one knee and rising up, shouting, “Respect!” as loud as he could, then sticking his chest out as he stood at attention.

  Lord Keenan nodded to Master Hopp and asked for a report on the day’s progress. Rafik’s heart sank as he heard the brief summary of the mock run, but Lord Keenan did not react at all. Instead, he moved on to inspect the boys and girls, stopping beside each one to listen to a report about their personal conduct during the battle. Occasionally the Guildlord would nod his approval or say something to the boy or girl standing at attention in front of him. Kurk was informed that soon he would be ready for his first augmentation operation, and Bernard was ordered to sharpen his shooting skills. When the Guildlord reached Rafik he lingered longer than he did with all the other trainees, asking for a full report from Master Goran, Mistress Havanna, and Master Fu, who specialized in hand-to-hand combat. Master Goran praised Rafik’s progress but readily admitted that even a shallow run could still prove difficult for the boy and a deep run would surely be fatal. The combat teachers were even more adamant about Rafik’s poor chances of survival.

  “Why is that so?” the Guildlord asked.

  “There is no time to train the boy, Guildlord,” Master Fu said softly, but his voice carried enough for Rafik to hear it. “He’s studying with Master Goran all the time.”

  Master Goran did not wait for an acknowledgment from his Guildlord to defend his position, “The boy’s focus should be opening the puzzle locks of the nodes,” he said hotly. “He is the only one who can do so, and he is training for that purpose. He will have a crew to protect him. That is their job.”

  “He didn’t survive an easy mock run in training,” remarked the Guildlord.

  “That’s because he didn’t follow orders,” Mistress Havanna intervened.

  The Guildlord shook his head. “Combat is a chaotic business, and his ability to solve puzzles is not going to help the guild if he dies on the first shallow run.”

  Master Goran looked as if he was about to argue but thought better of it and pursed his lips instead.

  “The boy needs to know how to defend himself,” Lord Keenan continued, his voice hardening in resolution. “I want him to be trained in evasive manoeuvres and light weaponry as well as work to improve his stamina.” He looked at Rafik. “He looks pale and weak to me. He needs more exercise, and some muscle-building nourishment. Find time for it. Redouble your efforts, and I will check back in on the boy soon. The Keenan guild has invested dearly in this venture and we need to see results, not ineptitude.”

  The three teachers paled at this, but the Guildlord did not press further. He conducted a short meeting with the staff, attended the midday meal in the hall, and left soon after that.

  From that day on, Rafik’s routine changed dramatically. He rose at dawn for a personal training session with Master Fu and collapsed, exhausted, in the middle of the night, usually on a makeshift bed in Master Goran’s lair. All of the Keenan masters took the Guildlord’s words seriously and pushed Rafik with every practice session. Light-weapons combat was intense, but hand-to-hand combat was gruesome. Master Fu was relentless and demanding, and Rafik’s body became a mosaic of red, black, and blue.

  “Don’t think. Move!” Master Fu shouted at Rafik, as fists and kicks connected with his body. But it seemed that the boy’s natural reflex to try and find patterns kept hindering his progress. It didn’t help that Master Fu always made Rafik face overwhelming opponents. Needless to say, Kurk took great pleasure at these training sessions, and Rafik breathed a deep sigh of relief when the brute was finally shipped away to be augmented and then sent to guard the fields outside the City of Towers.

  Others replaced him, though, and no day passed without Rafik limping back to Master Goran, who would then challenge Rafik with puzzle after puzzle, constantly increasing their difficulty. It was no surprise that Rafik lost all track of time, and his recollection of the many weeks that followed was hazy. Winter came and went and he barely noticed. Rafik did not grow much stronger, as he’d secretly hoped he would, but by spring, he could run and climb faster and managed to avoid most of the punches and kicks in hand-to-hand combat.

  He was also making good progress with his puzzle studies, and even Master Goran grudgingly admitted that the physical training benefitted Rafik’s concentration. His shooting ability was still dismal. The power blaster felt clumsy in his hand, and his vision blurred when he aimed. Any larger weapon was too heavy for him to control properly. He consoled himself that at least the other trainees left him alone, but it could have been because he barely spoke to anyone or even had time to take meals together with them. Lord Keenan visited every few weeks to learn of Rafik’s progress, and it was late spring when he finally decided to test Rafik further.

  It was during combat drills that a warrior, dressed in battered and worn power armour and carrying his gear in a sack over his shoulder, strolled in. He stopped, dropped his sack on the floor, then slowly unfastened his helmet and removed it, revealing a bald pate with Comm wirings pinned to the back of his head, warrior style, and a Comm attached to the top of his scalp. He had a short, cropped black beard and wore no ornaments or trinkets.

  Master Fu immediately ordered the trainees to stand at attention in a semicircle around the combat ring as the man unfastened his power armour from the waist up and proceeded to remove his gloves, bracers, and a forearm pad, dropping them to the ground as well. Master Fu turned to face the bald man as he stepped into the combat ring. Despite not being very tall, the man was a mountain of body mass and muscle. He had a short, wide neck, which he cracked to each side as he moved towards Master Fu, and skin the colour of baked stone.

  Rafik held his breath as the two faced each other, staring intently into each other’s eyes for an uncomfortably long time. Then the man banged a meaty fist into his palm and they both bowed slowly and deliberately, keeping eye contact the entire time. When they straightened up the man held up his hands and closed them into a pair of enormous fists, assuming a combat position. He towered over Master Fu, who held up his own hands as well but kept his palms open. They stood like that for several heartbeats, when suddenly the man burst out laughing and bowed deeply again to Master Fu. Rafik saw the combat teacher grin for the first time as the two embraced.

  “This is Commander Doro,” Master Fu said as he turned to the stunned trainees. “He’s in charge of the Keenan guild’s crew at the Valley outpost.”

  “Keenan, Respect!” Rafik joined the collective shout with enthusiasm.

  After that short introduction Commander Doro asked to join the training session and proceeded to complete all the exercises to the letter, refusing Master Fu’s invitation to comment or demonstrate. Word carried fast, and soon all the Masters and Mistresses came out to the sunny courtyard. Even Master Goran eventually showed up, although he kept his distance. Last came the ever-stern Mistress Furukawa, who stood with Master Goran, watching the end of the training with what could have been interpreted as a shadow of a smile on her lips. Rafik had never trained harder in his life, and by the looks of it, this was true for the other trainees as well.

  After the training was over, the now-sweating Commander Doro and Master Fu hugged again, then the Commander proceeded to warmly greet each and every one of the teachers.

  “We did not expect you for at least another week,” Mistress Havanna said.

  “You know me.” Commander Doro smiled mischieviously. “I like to surprise.” He turned and bowed his head in acknowledgment to Mistress Furukawa.

  “It is good to see you, Commander.”

  “Ah, Mistress Furukawa, your smile always brightens my day—” he tilted his head and waved “—and I see Master Goran still likes to play odd man out.”

  Rafik caught Mistress Havanna turning to hide her own smile. Mistress Furukawa’s expression remained stony as ever. “Come, Commander.” Her eyes wandered towards Rafik. “We have much to speak about.”

&nbs
p; Master Fu ordered two trainees to gather Commander Doro’s gear and bring it to his room, and the group of instructors followed Mistress Furukawa. As soon as the trainees were given leave they began talking excitedly among themselves about nothing else but Commander Doro. Even Rafik was included this time.

  “You know what this means,” said Bernard, who was now the leading Troll after Kurk had shipped out. “He came to test us, those who do well might be shipped out straight to the Valley instead of doing field guard duty. And of course”—he looked straight at Rafik—“he came for the Puzzler.”

  The group’s attention turned to Rafik, and as always, he felt his throat tighten.

  “I wouldn’t mind if he tested me,” a curly headed Troll named Lizza mumbled to herself. She blushed deeply when she realised what she’d said. The group laughed and immediately began mocking and teasing each other. Even Rafik noticed the misty looks in the eyes of all the girls when they mentioned Commander Doro.

  No one paid further attention to Rafik as he withdrew himself from the group and made his way down to Master Goran’s lair.

  Master Goran wasn’t there to train Rafik, but a new puzzle box was standing ready on the table. Rafik spent the rest of the afternoon training, although he did not attach the pain-delivering wires to his forearm.

  When House Master Prushnik failed to deliver his evening meal, Rafik decided to go up and join everyone in the mess hall. Perhaps he would see Master Goran there. To his surprise, he found Commander Doro sitting on the bench at the trainees’ table, eating and chatting enthusiastically with them, and not at the instructor’s table. A glance to the table on the dais showed Rafik that Mistress Furukawa and Master Goran were the only ones not there. All the other seats were taken at the trainees’ table. Rafik hesitated before deciding to turn back. He would fetch something from the kitchen and go back to the lair. Master Goran would not be pleased if he came down and found Rafik gone.