by Cody Loewen
I soak in the teaching, already seeing the wisdom in the words when applied to the fight that we just finished. There was no question that when Rayfe joined my fight against my enemy, the tide of battle was immediately turned, and our victory was almost instant. Even when facing off against someone who is stronger, faster, or more experienced in battle, having Rayfe to fight alongside me will help even the odds of almost any fight. I make a mental note to look for those openings that will help me free Rayfe from his fights, in our next matches, as I am sure that he is doing the same for me.
After our partnered sparring sessions, we head back into the forest to the place where our lessons on battle tactics were previously held. Unsurprisingly, our lesson today focuses on the different fighting styles that are most effective when fighting as a pair in battle. I listen intently as Ambrosius goes into great detail about the benefits of fighting back to back with your partner when faced with a greater number of enemies than we would normally be able to fend off. If done properly, the enemy’s numbers won’t ever turn into a real advantage, and the chances of surviving such an encounter are increased.
Next, he goes into the strategies associated with fighting a single opponent, or pair of opponents, and trapping them between us to better overwhelm them with coordinated strikes and attack routines. He explains that if you are fighting another pair of warriors, being able to keep your eyes on both of them has clear advantages and forcing them to always be turning and moving to fend off strikes from the two of us will wear them down much faster, almost assuring victory.
After a complex lesson on complementary fighting styles between partners with either similar or very different weapons, we are dismissed back into the clearing for another meal and told that we will be fighting two more matches before the end of the day. Excited to get back to learning how to fight with Rayfe to become a more effective pair of warriors, I shovel food into my mouth as quickly as possible, before rising once more, and practically pulling Rayfe back out to the fighting grounds. He grins at me as we stand there waiting for our opponents to arrive and lets out a chuckle.
“You’re a little eager to get back to it aren’t you?” He asks me, smiling. “You are just work, work, work. No time for relaxing.”
I roll my eyes at his teasing but can’t help smiling a little bit at the words.
“I really don’t blame you,” he continues, not giving me any time to actually reply. “These fights are definitely the most fun part of the whole training process.”
I nod in agreement. I know that the other parts of the process that we have endured up to this point have all been important as well, but other than the fights, I haven’t truly enjoyed anything here in the clearing, and I am ready for them to continue.
With every practice fighs that I go through, I become a better warrior. I need to have as much experience as possible when I stand before Kromm. I don’t intend to give him the opportunity to get away once I face him in battle.
As I stand there daydreaming about my victory over the monstrous troll once more, our newest set of opponents make their way over to us, ready to begin. Not much older than me, the two boys look comfortable holding their weapons, maybe a little too comfortable. The cocky way they smirk at us makes me think they assume victory will easily be theirs, and their words prove me right.
“Look, it's an elf and a girl,” the taller one sneers.
The shorter, blonde one, who lines up opposite me, gives me a sweeping glance from head to toe, sniffing in disdain. “This shouldn’t take long.”
Rayfe grins fiercely at me. I already know what he is thinking.
No, it shouldn’t.
We exchange nods once more, before coming together in a rush of steel. It is clear that these two fighters don’t possess the skill that our last opponents had. Rayfe and I easily take the two of them down individually within a few minutes of the start of the battle. I wish that I had been given the chance to try to sneak an attack in at his opponent, but there was hardly enough time for me to even practice my own fighting before the fight was over. I feel a sense of pride at just how easily I was able to take down the man in front of me, silently thanking my father for the hours he spent out in the fields with me, giving me a foundation for the knowledge and skills I had acquired since coming to the training grounds.
Our third and final fight of the day is more difficult. Lacking the speed of the first team we faced, our new foes make up for it in sheer strength. We face off against a pair of burly men, each possessing far greater size and strength than Rayfe or me, their battle axes too heavy for me to even lift. The fight is long, our speed and agility barely keeping the heavy strikes coming from our enemies away from us. As I dart under a sideways blow from my opponent, I see Rayfe almost fall under a crushing blow, barely getting his swords up in time to block the axe chop. With my own opponent still recovering from my feint, I remember the advice the instructor had given us during our first fight. I spin in the opposite direction and use my forward momentum to slice my sword across the leg of the man Rayfe is fighting as I circle back to my own foe. A grunt of pain is all I hear before Rayfe steps up beside me, swords at the ready. Together, we make quick work of the second opponent, Rayfe’s blades capturing his focus as my sword finds its mark.
My lungs ache in my chest, and my breath comes in gasps as we stand there, the exertion of a third fight in such a short time taking its toll on me. I work hard to slow my breathing and get control of myself. Beside me, Rayfe doesn’t even appear to be out of breath, and I wonder how that is even possible.
He makes everything look so effortless and easy, I think to myself, a spark of jealousy coursing through me. I wish I had his natural ability in combat. I’m just glad that I have him beside me.
After the instructors have made their rounds, we are told that we are being given the rest of the day off, to once more spend time with our partners. Ambrosius stresses again the importance of trust and the close bond we must share with each other to successfully operate in and out of battle together. The muscles in my legs ache, and my arms feel limp and weak, so I let out a sigh of relief at the news that I can now relax for a while. Ambrosius encourages us to spend time together, but to rest well tonight, for the training that will take place tomorrow will not end so early.
Rayfe and I take the warning to heart, taking our dinner when it is offered and finding our way back to our tent as the sun begins to disappear past the horizon. It is earlier than we normally go to sleep, but I am sore from the day’s events, and without knowing exactly how much will be expected of us tomorrow, we decide that it will be a good idea to go ahead and get our rest. I really don’t want to sleep in my filthy clothes again, but I don’t know what else to do. It’s not like I am going to strip down in front of Rayfe, regardless of this “partner” thing. As I pause outside the tent flap, trying to decide what to do, Rayfe’s gentle grip on my elbow startles me.
“I am going to go wash up really quick,” he says. “Why don't you go ahead and get ready for bed? Blow your lantern out when it is OK for me to come in.” Without another word, he turns and heads for the stream.
As I watch him walk away in the fading light, I can’t help but smile.
Thank the gods he is my partner.
Chapter 7
Rough hands pulling me from my bedroll wrests me from my dreams. Disoriented, I try to ask what is happening, but before I can speak, a firm hand covers my mouth, quickly replaced by a cloth gag. As the cobwebs of sleep clear my eyes, I look around the small tent, trying to ascertain who is assaulting me. The darkest part of the night still conceals everything in shadow, and the blurry shapes I can make out don’t have any details that would be helpful. Instinctively I begin to fight, thrashing around as my hands are roughly bound behind my back with a coarse rope and a thick hood is thrown over my head.
I kick out at one of my assailants, catching him in the side of the knee. His curse as he falls to the ground beside me gives me a brief moment of satisfacti
on, until a punch to the side of my head brings me back to the realization of the peril I am in. Realizing that resistance is futile at this point, I stop struggling and concentrate on what is happening around me. With the hood over my head, my eyes are useless, but my other senses kick in to help put the pieces together. I sense several more bodies in the small tent. From the sound of thrashing and deep grunts on the far side tent, I can only assume that the same thing is happening to Rayfe. I try to yell out again, with no luck. I wonder if he is faring any better in fighting off our unknown assailants, but my thoughts are interrupted by a push from behind that sends me sprawling outside the tent. Hands grip me under my arms, pulling me to my feet and steering me forward.
I try to wrench free from the grip, but with my arms tight against my back, I can’t move an inch away from my kidnapper and I know that any attempt will just cost me any little bit of strength I may still have.
Just bide your time. Wait for an opening to escape. I just have to hope that I know when that time comes..
The brush of needles on my arms and the quiet rustle of undergrowth tell me we have gone deeper into the forest. Our pace is brisk, but the path is even and the walk even, so I can focus on my enemies and formulating a plan to break free. With my arm still in the firm grasp of my kidnapper, I have nothing to focus on except the thoughts in my head screaming at me to think of a way to get out of this situation alive.
I can hear Rayfe breathing beside me, putting up more of a struggle than I am, cursing behind his gag. Every once in a while, I brush up against him, and I take comfort in knowing that we are both together; it increases our chances of escape. My hip feels naked without my sword. It must still be in back in the tent. Bile rises in my throat at the thought of someone else wielding my sword, but there is nothing I can do about it at the moment. Once I manage to escape, nothing will keep me from getting my sword back.
I just need to catch them off guard. If I am quick enough, I can steal a weapon from one of them.
Mile after mile passes under my feet through the forest.
I will cut right through these people when I find the right time to make my move. Then Rayfe I will be free;, we just have to find our way back to the camp.
I nod to myself, under my hood, at the plan that I have formed. I march steadily along, continuing to bide my time, but as no opportunity to escape presents itself, doubts start creeping in, cutting holes in the little bit of a plan I thought I had made.
What if there is no right time?
What if our captors are trolls, and they taking back to be prisoners in their camp?
Don’t be absurd, you idiot!
I try to push the thoughts from my head, knowing that the crippling fear threatening to consume me will likely get me killed. I squeeze my hands into fists and force myself to just focus on what I know, and what I can do, which at the moment, is not much. I wonder what thoughts are going through Rayfe’s head. Is he having the same fears as me, or is he even scared at all? From what I have learned about him so far, I’m not even sure he is capable of feeling fear; he is so sure of everything and confident in himself. I wish I could say the same about myself.
After several more hours of walking, my captor yanks me to the left, turning me from the path and into the heart of the forest. Tree branches brush up against me. Every step requires me to push through thick undergrowth with my legs, as if I am wading through knee deep water, and I feel a hand on my head, pushing it down to duck under branches that I cannot see as we move forward.
I hope that Rayfe knows his way through the forest, I think to myself. If it was up to me I would be hopelessly lost out here, even if I was free. The hardest part of this escape might be getting ourselves back to the path.
Legs burning from the never ending ducking under invisible branches and breaking through underbrush, I resign myself to the understanding that I will likely not find a chance of escape. Whoever my kidnappers are, they have been silent for this duration of this trek. I can't tell exactly how many of them there are, but I’m sure that Rayfe and I are outnumbered, judging by how quickly and easily they were able to tie us up and whisk us out of our tent. I know that we are in the thick of the forest, but I don't know in what direction, and I know that we have been weaving around, leaving me too disoriented to even begin to make a guess.
The musty fibers of the hood over my face, too thick to allow even a pinpoint of light through, are damp from my labored breathing. My jaw is starting to ache from the gag tied tightly in my mouth, and my wrists feel rubbed raw from the rope that holds them behind my back.
My stomach lets out a low grumble, complaining about the lack of food.
Finally.
The first clue on where we are or how long we've been gone emerges in the form of that growl. Because of the extremely rigid schedule we've maintained during our time at the training grounds, I know that my stomach growling is telling me that it is lunch time, meaning that we have been walking for well over seven or eight hours. I estimate that we must be 22 to 25 mi from the camp by this point, judging by how much time has passed and the pace that we are maintaining through the forest, but other than that I still don't know anything about where we are going, or who is leading me there.
The hand on my arm suddenly tightens, and I am jerked to a stop.
This is it. Now or never.
I comply with the physical command, knowing that my time to act will be short. I bend my knees slightly and tighten up my body, my muscles coiled and ready to strike like a snake. I feel a hand grip the hood over my head, and I grit my teeth around the cloth gag. The sudden burst of light as the hood is ripped off my head blinds me. I blink several times, trying to clear the spots from my vision so I can attack the first person I see. But as my eyes regain their focus, I stop in my tracks in surprise.
Ambrosius? What the hell?
Ambrosius stands before me, holding the hood that had been over my face in his hand. I look over and see Rayfe beside me, the look on his face showing the same confusion as mine as he stares at another instructor.
Just be the two of them.
That fact surprises me. It had seemed like there were many more inside the tent as they bound and gagged us and forced us into the forest.
“I apologize for the theatrics,” Ambrosius says as he stuffs the hoods into a pack slung over his shoulder. He quickly unties our hands and cuts the gags from our mouths with a small dagger. “We needed you to be disoriented and confused, so we could get you out into the forest without you being aware of where you were.”
“Why?”
I stare at him with anger in my eyes, not seeing the point of this whole exercise.
“Because this is your final trial as an initiate into the Reavers,” he says matter-of-factly. “This trial will truly decide whether you have what it takes to join our elite fighting force.”
“So, what exactly is this trial?” Rayfe asks him, obviously just as annoyed and confused by the whole thing as I am.
“Survival,” Ambrosius says, his eyes moving between ours. “Your mission is to survive.”
I glance at Rayfe, the question in his eyes mirroring my own.
“We have dropped you in the woods far from camp, and any sense of familiarity that you might have found there,” Ambrosius continues. “Other pairs of initiates have been deposited throughout the forest around us, their instructors leaving them the same set of instructions as we speak. Only 10 pairs of you will earn the right continue your Reaver training past this point. It is up to you to earn your position. To do this, you must survive the forest, and each other, and make it back to the camp by nightfall four days from now. Your weapons will be enchanted as they have been throughout this whole training process, and we will be keeping an eye on you even when you think you are alone. If you are “killed” in combat by a fellow initiate, you fail. You will be removed from the trial, guided out of the forest and sent on your way. If you do not make it back to the training camp by the end of the fourth day, yo
u will also fail the test.”
Before I can voice the question rising in my throat, Ambrosius answers it.
“And yes, if one of you fail, both of you fail. You are a team. You survive, or not, as a team.”
I glance sideways over at Rayfe, who is already looking at me. That lopsided grin soothes my nerves screaming for action.
“In addition to the dangers that you face from the forest and your fellow initiates during this trial, my instructors will also be hunting you. You must be alert and wary at all times because danger lurks all around you. It will take every ounce of warrior instinct that you and your partner have to make it out of this and to truly become Reavers. I wish you luck, and I hope to see you back in camp in time to move on with your training here.”
With those final words of encouragement, Ambrosius and the other instructor seem to melt back into the trees, quickly fading from sight in the thick underbrush. Shock roots my feet to the ground as I try to digest this dramatic turn of events, and the trials that lie ahead. Unlike me, Rayfe is already moving. He strides past me and bends down. He stands back up with our weapon belts in hand.
I'm glad that he was paying attention because I didn't even see them deposited there.
He hands me my belt, my sword sheathed and strapped to the leather, and I quickly fit it in place. It is amazing how simply having my sword on my hip calms my nerves and gives me focus. With Rayfe beside me, I feel confident that we will not fail this test. Suddenly, the blare of a war horn shakes the trees around us, signaling the start of this mission that will determine our fate. Unfamiliar with the forest, I immediately turn to Rayfe, hoping he has a better idea of how to proceed.
