The Test of Ostra

by Rory D Nelson

  By the time the sun goes down in the sky, he has put together six of the 50 parts. He works tirelessly throughout the long, cold night and manages to put together another twelve. For nearly three painstaking days, Perronius assembles the fifty parts, taking breaks only to eat, drink water and give Shadow his fill.

  Despite being deprived of sleep for three days and having cramped fingers from painstakingly putting together numerous moving parts, he manages to construct a pulley system to move the generator the two hundred yards. There are no trees, so in place of trees, Perronius uses several large poles and drives them into the ground. He then uses the ropes and pulleys and ties them to the generator.

  Perronius uses several more beams and puts them under the generator and then merely pulls on the rope, sending the generator seamlessly across the ground. When he moves the generator to the end of the poles, he pulls out the beams and lays them in the path and pulls on the rope again until he reaches his destination with the generator.

  Dotore is already there, a solemn look on his face. To Perronius, his aura is unreadable, as is his mind. It could be good or bad.

  “Well, Perronius, you have completed task. In record time.” Several recruits laugh at the jest.

  “This was an elimination round.”

  Perronius puts his head down and stifles the tears that are building up in his eyes.

  Dotore pauses, letting Perronius stew. “But three other recruits have been eliminated from this round as they have succumbed to the booby-traps. You have completed the task, assuming of course that the generator works.”

  Perronius sighs and prays that it will. He didn’t even think about turning it on to test it. He grows nervous. He has been sleep deprived and perhaps made an error. He shakes a little at the thought of failure.

  He flips the switch, and the machine comes to life.

  “Well done. You have saved yourself from elimination.”

  Perronius lets out a long sigh of relief.

  “Go get some chow and then rest for tomorrow. At dawn, there will be a mandatory elimination round.”

  Perronius nods. “Ai, Dotore.”

  “It took us longer to disassemble those parts than it took you to put them back together again. And we had six of us doing it. All an orchestrated effort to sabotage you. The nights were windy, and the pervasive chill set all our teeth on edge. We prayed you would return. You did not disappoint,” says Germanicus.

  “I will never forget that day,” says Merlin.

  Perronius recovered well from the meal and rest. As usual, he wakes an hour before dawn, prays and makes his quarters meticulously. Though he has yet to pick up a shooter, it seems his hands are unusually dexterous. In each hand, he twirls a coin through his knuckles, faster and faster and then bounces it off the tight cot he made. He then transfers the coin to his other hand and seamlessly moves the coin down his hand and across his body as if it were attached to some invisible magnet.

  Perronius has taught himself contact juggling. Frequently, he uses small metal balls and rolls them across his body. He is mastering his body quite well. He will need all his concentration and agility today in the stick fighting elimination rounds. Shadow sits next to him as he prays and is quiet.

  After a few minutes, their breathing is in sync. Any thought that Perronius has is immediately picked up by Shadow. They are becoming intrinsically linked to one another. It will serve them well when they need each other in battle.

  When Perronius is through with his prayer, he gets up and walks out and goes to the gymnasium. Normally, breakfast would be first, but this was an elimination round today and the bouts take precedence.

  Perronius is the first recruit to arrive. “Good morning to you Dotore,” says Perronius.

  “Good morning,” says Dotore, nonchalantly.

  The other recruits arrive and as usual his courteous nods are met with icy stares. He expects nothing less. This is an elimination round and all recruits are set to edge. No one is safe.

  Dotore wastes no time in beginning. “Pair up recruits. Doesn’t matter who. Make it someone you wish to see eliminated or your closest friend.”

  He looks at Perronius. “Perronius, you are the odd man out, as usual. So, you will take on Savelle and Jess. This is a full force bout. When I blow the whistle. Do not hesitate. Begin.”

  Dotore blows the whistle and the recruits begin.

  Perronius grabs the stick in the middle, which is shorter. It’ll diminish his reach but allow him to defend himself from opponents simultaneously. What he loses in striking distance, he makes up for in speed and strength.

  Savelle and Jess do not hesitate in a full force attack on Perronius. Perronius does not disappoint. He blocks their blows and counters with a devastating blow inside.

  Jess, the slower of the two, does not adequately block it. Perronius’ inward strike catches him in the ribs sharply, causing a sharp and devastating pain. He nearly loses his stick but rebounds in time for the second assault.

  Savelle strikes down hard on Perronius, hoping to catch him off guard, but he parries the blow, pivots and shoots out his foot, catching Savelle in the stomach. He flies back onto the mat and doubles over in pain. His temporary incapacitation leaves Jess vulnerable. He now fights Perronius alone, and he is no match for the gifted recruit. He strikes out several times but to no avail. Perronius parries them easily with the slightest of moves, conserving his energy.

  On the fifth blow, Perronius blocks and then counters with a sweeping blow to the side, catching Jess in the sternum and knocking him to the mat, heaving and gasping for breath.

  “You’re out Jess. Step to the side.” booms Dotore. Jess complies.

  Savelle, having recovered, rejoins the fight. He brings up his stick for a full force strike, but Perronius blocks it. Savelle pivots and steps toward Perronius, hoping to catch him off balance, but his tactic is unsuccessful. Perronius moves, ducks and then blocks another devastating roundhouse.

  “Stanton, Stole, you’re both out. Syrus, Markamus, join the fight with Savelle.”

  Perronius knows he must step up the pace. The command seems to spark new life in Savelle. Hoping to subdue him with needed aid, he strikes out with devastating blows and yells at the top of his lungs. His yells does little to unnerve Perronius, but the intensity puts him at a temporary stalemate in which he cannot launch a bout ending blow.

  Savelle takes a full arc swing and misses Perronius, leaving him vulnerable for a split second. Perronius does not hesitate. He launches a palm strike and catches Savelle on the chin. He drops to the ground, unconscious. Filken, the other knight attending, carries him off.

  Savelle is out of the round, but the assault allows Syrus and Markamus time to coordinate a surprise attack on Perronius. They both look at each other and nod, hoping to subdue Perronius with a move they have been perfecting some time.

  Syrus runs up to him, pivots, drops down and swings his outstretched leg in a sweeping move. Perronius jumps up, missing it. Simultaneously, Markamus snaps out his forearm, catching Perronius in the nose, emitting a fair amount of blood. His nose is broken, but he is far from subdued.

  Both Markamus and Syrus launch simultaneously blows at Perronius, giving him no chance to rebound. Perronius ducks and blocks, avoiding both blows.

  He then recovers and launches out two quick blows of his own, which Syrus and Markamus block. Perronius launches two quick blows again and this time, Markamus is caught off guard slightly. He manages only to block the blow partially. He loses the stick from his grasp, and it comes down hard on his leg.

  Sensing vulnerability, Perronius launches a powerful front kick, which catches him in the stomach. He flies back and lands on the mat, gasping hard for breath.

  “Can you go on?” asks Dotore. Markamus nods. He gets up quickly though he is still dazed. If he doesn’t, he faces elimination.

  As he returns to the fight, Dotore yells out. “Percy, Vindor, you are both out. Germanicus join Syrus and Markamus. Time to put away t
he sticks.” The recruits comply and toss their sticks to the side.

  Perronius does not groan or complain. His pain is palpable but detached far from him. If he is taken down, so be it. He will not be an easy elimination.

  Germanicus wastes no time. Seeing that Perronius has his attention diverted to Syrus and Markamus, he runs up and launches a powerful roundhouse blow. Perronius is unable to defend it completely. His fist smacks hard in his oblique and Perronius feels and hears a snap. He knows one of his ribs is broken. Every excruciating fiber in his body seems to confirm it.

  He is tiring but senses that Markamus and Syrus are becoming winded as well. Syrus launches a sloppy, fatigue-fueled blow and Perronius takes full advantage. He pivots to avoid the blow and then steps inward and launches a lightning quick jab at his face. It catches him on the chin, and he drops to the mat, unconscious.

  At the same time, Markamus launches a powerful kick on Perronius, hoping to catch him off guard. He is only slightly off guard. Perronius pivots in time and absorbs the kick in his leg. It is painfully sharp but leaves him relatively intact.

  Now the kick is absorbed, Germanicus rears up for a hefty pile driver on Perronius, who dodges the blow at the last possible second. He counters with a hard-upper strike to his face, but Germanicus dodges it by moving to the side.

  Markamus launches a hard side swing at Perronius, but he deflects it.

  Germanicus is lying in wait for the moment. As soon as Perronius deflects the blow, he launches a series of blows. The first one is a hook and catches Perronius in the oblique, igniting a torrent of agonizing pain throughout his body. He winces for a fraction of a second.

  Markamus, sensing Perronius’ discomfort, goes in for the kill, like a lion going for the jugular. From his shoulder, he launches a powerful sweep punch, hoping to end Perronius’ reign. His punch is well-telegraphed and Perronius sees it coming. He pivots, absorbs Germanicus’ kick, sidesteps and throws a counter quick jab at his face. It finds home on his chin and Markamus drops to the mat, unconscious. Filken removes him from the mat.

  Germanicus descends upon Perronius and launches a kick, but Dotore halts the fight. “Stop recruits!” Germanicus and Perronius stop and look to Dotore. “You two are the last combatants left. Well done!” They nod at Dotore. “Pick up your sticks, runts and let’s finish what you came here for. You ken?”

  “Ai, Dotore!” yell Germanicus and Perronius.

  Dotore seems to study them curiously. “I may need to make an adjustment.” He states. Perronius and Germanicus nod.

  Dotore approaches Perronius and seems to study him. “It would appear that you are fighting on at least one broken rib. Must be excruciating for you. You ken?” He asks with a sympathetic brow.

  “Ai, Dotore. But I can go on, set watch and warrant it so.”

  Dotore nods. “Ai. Was hoping you would say that.”

  Perronius nods.

  “Is it your left side?” asks Dotore.

  Perronius nods. “Ai, Dotore.”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Dotore launches a lightning quick, devastating jab to his left side. Perronius cries out in agonizing pain, drops his stick and falls to a knee. Dotore walks away and then sits down on his wooden bench.

  “Do you wish to leave!?” He asks Perronius.

  “No, Dotore!” cries Perronius.

  “Then pick up your stick!” Perronius gets up, wincing with every excruciating movement and picks up his stick. He focuses, forcing himself to detach from the pain. He focuses on Germanicus.

  “When in battle, you will have to fight with such injuries, injuries much more devastating than this. You must push yourself past the pain. Let’s end this. Shall we?”

  Perronius and Germanicus square off, stiff with anticipation. “Begin!” He booms.

  Germanicus strikes out with a long drive towards Perronius face. Perronius dodges it and breaks off a piece of the stick with his fist in a move that seems to defy logic. No one had ever seen anything like it. Perronius sidesteps and swings in a low arc towards Germanicus, who deflects it. He counters with a swing to Perronius’ other side. Perronius deflects it.

  Germanicus swings again and again, keeping his body movements untelegraphed and keeping his body low, but he is unable to connect. With every full force strike, he starts to lose a little steam.

  Perronius allows Germanicus to strike out at him repeatedly, choosing to defend rather than be on the offensive. His main concern is protecting his left side from any more devastating blows. Germanicus continues to rain down blows on Perronius but to no avail.

  With the greatest amount of effort, Germanicus launches several strikes. And reversely, with the least amount of effort, Perronius dodges and parries his blows, choosing only to defend himself.

  When this tactful proves unsuccessful for Germanicus, he switches gears. He pivots to his left side and steps inside and launches a sharp blow inside. When he does, he leaves himself vulnerable for a split second.

  Perronius hunches down low and sweeps his foot, knocking him off balance and knocks him to the mat. When he is down, Perronius launches a powerful kick to his midsection, causing Germanicus to cry out sharply. But he doesn’t go in for the kill. Instead, he backs off and permits Germanicus to rebound.

  Germanicus curves his back and lithely jumps up on his feet and grabs his stick.

  Perronius snaps out his stick with a hard right and Germanicus parries it. Perronius steps in and snaps two more consecutive strikes. Germanicus blocks the first one, but the second one lands home, hitting him across the back. He stifles a cry, winces instead and recovers.

  He moves up to Perronius and launches a quick blow to his right, hoping to catch him off guard. Perronius is not off guard. He parries the blow and launches a devastating counter blow, which hits him right in the ribs. This time Germanicus cries out in pain. He forces himself to hold on to his stick.

  Perronius launches another string of quick, successive blows. He deflects several, but one particularly devastating strike lands home on his leg, causing him to wince. Perronius launches another strike and hits Germanicus on the back side. He cries out and barely manages to block another devastating blow to his left.

  Not having the time to recover properly, Germanicus is left vulnerable on his right side for a fraction of a second. It is all the time Perronius needs to launch a devastating blow to his right, which comes down hard on his side, causing him to cry out in agony and drop his stick. Another blow directly in the stomach causes him to drop to the mat.

  With maximum force and velocity, Perronius swings hard at Germanicus face, intending to end the match. But he stops at the last possible split second, only an inch from his face. Germanicus looks at him, with a beseeching gesture. “Two fingers up in submission, Germanicus. Show me!” He demands.

  Germanicus nods reluctantly and holds up two fingers. “Ai, Comp. You have beaten me fair, set watch and warrant. I submit. Mercy.”

  Perronius smiles. He extends his hand. Germanicus takes it and gets up. The movement causes Perronius to wince in response.

  Dotore walks over to them both. Perronius, still on guard, reflexively lifts his stick, presumably to defend himself. “Halt Perronius. The match is done. You have both done well.” He extracts a gold medallion with a lion in the forefront and a pack of smaller lions in the background. The inscription is in Latin. It says, “Compatra Alpha”, which translates as lead patriot. He places it around Perronius’ neck.

  Dotore puts his arm around Perronius and kisses his head affectionately. “You have honored me beyond words, Perronius. If I had accomplished nothing else in my life, it would be a life fulfilled because I was dotore to Perronius Balcut. You have granted him mercy. It is well. You must heed special care. Someday, these boys will be men and their lives will be in your care. Take heed and do not abuse your power.”

  Tears well up in Perronius’ eyes and he is unable to stop them from falling. He nods and shamefully wipes them away. “Ai, Dotore.”
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  “Perronius, rise.” Perronius complies. “You have proven yourself worthy of wearing this medal. You are hereby granted the title of ‘Compatra Alpha,’ lead recruit.

  “Gratitude, Dotore.”

  Dotore shakes his head. “No Perronius. You do not extend gratitude. You have earned this. And your brothers are honored that you will wear it, from this day on out, if you pass your penultima and Ultima. These boys will expect you to lead them on the last leg of their journey to achieving knighthood.”

  Dotore takes Perronius hand. The pain is monstrous with the gesture but detached from Perronius in a far away place. He holds his hands up and presents him to the boys. “Recruits, I present to you your lead, Perronius!”

  The boys roar out in approval. Germanicus chants his name. “Perronius! Perronius! Perronius!” He yells. The other boys join in the chant and begin to clap in sync with one another.

  Dotore clasps his hand around Perronius’ neck. “You may spend the rest of the day to recuperate. Hex will play nursemaid to your injuries. Tonight, there will be a feast in your honor. I am proud to be called your Dotore.” He kisses Perronius on the head.

  The others continue to chant. Germanicus is the first to run up to Perronius. “Set an apt course, brother. You will have me on your boot heels all the days of my life.” Savelle and Domithicus lift Perronius up on their shoulders. They carry him off as they continue to chant out his name. “Perronius! Perronius!”

  Dotore looks on until the sound of the chants recedes and smiles. It is always a special day when he chooses the lead, a rare event that occurs less than once in a decade. It is a proud crowning achievement and fortuitous event. The lead has never failed to make the brotherhood in his time as Dotore, for he is chosen with the greatest amount of care.

  In fact, to his recollection, no lead has ever failed his Ultima.

  “When a potential leader is riddled with pain, alienation and sorrow, when his heart and mind is compromised, you ken then that is the time to further compound his misery. The act will either make or break him. The brotherhood is more important than any one recruit. You ken?” asks Merlin.