Approaching the training complex an arched entrance stood before me. At the top, bold letters read: ‘Welcome New Recruits – May your Arms be Strong, and your Spirits be Stronger’.
“Look who it is!” yelled a familiar voice. “Happy eighteenth birthday!”
In the shade of the closest building stood Peter. His appearance had changed unbelievably over the past three months. His boyish features had been replaced by strong arms and a sharper face.
“I’m so glad to see you,” I said throwing my arm around him. “You look good. What did they feed you here to make a soldier out of a scrawny boy like you?”
“It’s good to see you too,” he said with a big smile. “The food can hardly be called food here. The training is rougher and more painful than anything I have ever done, but once I get back the ladies will be at my feet,” he added with his usual grin.
“I am impressed. Then you won’t mind carrying this,” I said, throwing my bundle at him.
We laughed together for a moment before catching up on what had happened in the past three months. I told him about Elias, which he had known nothing about. The new recruits were rarely talked to by any of the initiated guards, and did not get in on much of the news.
“Training does not start until eight. Mind me showing you around?” he asked.
Upon my nod, we entered the large cottage where Peter had been standing. Personal belongings and blankets had been dispersed all across the floor in straight ranks and files. Walking in between the improvised beds he said, “I claimed you a spot close to mine. Make sure to grab some hay later, the nights get bitterly cold.” He placed my bundle on the floor and turned to leave.
“Can I just leave it here?” I asked out of precaution. “People don’t steal while you’re gone?”
“Material things are worthless out here. We are all equally poor and equally hungry. Even the finest piece of gold is not worth a fist sized steak,” Peter responded, smiling at my naïve question. “Let’s meet some of the others, you can get settled later.”
The cottage we left was the place where all the recruits slept. Two bigger ones were designated for the Grey Guard; anyone that had completed training. A common-hall, the most dignified of all buildings, was where the men ate, spend an hour or two at night, and celebrated completions of service or training. Two wooden statues of men in armor stood at each side of the door. Their faces were undefined, standing for the egalitarian nature of the Guard. Outside the city was the only place where rich and poor came together to fight alongside, letting status lose all its significance. One of the soldiers held his sword facing up while the other kept it facing the ground. Peter told me that it symbolized the virtue of self control, to know when to fight and when to avoid conflict.
We entered the common-hall briefly. Most of the men sat at long tables, eating their breakfast while exchanging a few words. With numb expressions they ate what seemed to be their everyday cuisine, a bowlful of a white viscous grit-like substance and a cup of water. Approaching a table occupied by three other recruits, I felt how little everyone cared to see a new face. Part of me had expected the excitement of the celebration to be matched by the guards, but all I received were bored testing looks. One of them looked at us, lowered his spoon and nodded at his companions. Synchronous they turned their heads and marked me like a stranger intruding on their turf.
“It’s alright comrades, this is Adam,” Peter said, dropping onto the bench next to one of the others. “I’ve told you about him, he just arrived.”
“Happy birthday, and welcome to hell,” a man from another table said in between two spoons of his breakfast.
“Don’t ya mind him, he’s a grumpy fella,” one of Peter’s friends said. His brown curly hair was all over the place like a wild mane, while the first stubbles grew forming an irregular beard on his boyish face. He looked somewhat familiar, and judging by his dialect was from the Industrial District, “I remember ya! Ya’r the guy that always brought us food at the lumber mill. Ma name is Nigel, glad to meet ya in person.”
Images flashed back in my mind to the days Katrina and I went around the Industrial District to help families through the winter. I nodded to acknowledge him, just when the next one introduced himself, “I am Stephan. I don’t think we’ve met, but I have certainly seen you around. My parents run the masonry.” I had skipped his celebration with Katrina to sneak around the city. That was all I remembered about him. He looked the oldest and most mature of them all. His eyes were almost as dark as his coal colored hair, yet radiated a warmth and friendliness that was rather reminiscent of the sun.
“James, pleased to meet you,” the third said. “It is of my understanding that you traded with my father. He is the merchant for miniature sculptures and other decoration.” His composure was that of a merchant indeed. With a straight back and both hands on the table he looked the most proper of the three. His dark brown hair was cut cleanly and combed to the side. Be it because of care or genes, he was the only one that kept a spotless clean shave.
Peter grabbed James’ water cup and took a gulp, “Let’s go boys, training’s up.”
Without any breakfast or time to sit down, we left the common-hall, turned right and walked towards the training ground. Artillery stations, sparring grounds, and parkour areas stretched all over the west side of the camp. At the center of it all the recruits assembled in straight lines. Four team leaders, recruits close to completing their one year training, led a warm-up lap around the complex. Despite all my climbing up the Mount and running off from thief jobs, I turned out to be in much worse shape than I had expected. I reached the halfway point of the warm up panting, begging for air. Falling behind Peter and the others, I had to get myself together to not lose the group. Gasping for a break, I made it back only to be met with more preliminary routines and workouts.
The sweat rolled into my eyes causing a light burning sensation. Training had been going on for less than an hour and yet I already strained my body to the maximum.
I was on the floor, barely finishing my thirtieth push-up when everything turned silent. The recruits rose to their feet quietly. Perplexed I sat on the floor hidden behind a rank of other recruits, observing the scene.
A slight rattling of heavy armor approached the ranks. “Salute soldiers!” yelled a voice I had heard before. Rising to my feet I looked into the eyes of a man I had seen just months ago.
The group answered in unison, “Hail Master Terric!”
Chapter 10
Terric walked the ranks up and down in slow controlled steps. He was the man that had stood up to the Inquisitor at the council meeting I had overheard. His long black hair fell down his bearish shoulders and blew in the morning breeze. “Third trimester recruits practice what you need to. Try to work on ambush scenarios,” he said. To my left, Stephan took a step forward and left with the others. “Second trimester recruits see Yorick at the shooting range,” Terric continued. Without a word James stepped forward and joined his group. “First trimester recruits you are with me today.”
Peter, Nigel, and I followed Terric to the sparring grounds. Swiftly he pushed open the gate of the small fence surrounding the arena. Walking inside, the recruits immediately formed a semicircle and waited for orders.
“Let’s see what you got,” Terric said passing down the ranks. “I need two volunteers.”
Peter grabbed my arm raising both our hands before I could resist, “Master Terric we have a new recruit. It would be an honor to get the first fight with him.”
Terric stepped before us examining me from head to toe, “You look strong and healthy for a new recruit, what is your profession?”
“Blacksmith, Master,” I responded looking him straight in the eyes.
“Let’s see how you do with a sword. After all, you make them,” he said walking towards the fence, against which all different sorts of training utensils rested. He drew two simple wooden swords out of a barrel. Without a warning he turned around and threw them at us.
Unaware it caught my head and fell to the ground. A sudden pain rushed towards my temples while I scanned the ground for the sword. Reaching for the shaft, a kick from behind put me to the ground. A second later I felt the wooden tip of Peter’s sword pressed against my neck.
“Beginner mistake,” he said relishing the laughs of the group. “Always be attentive. Now pick up your sword Adam, don’t just lie there.”
I collected my thoughts, quickly glancing at our surroundings. There was barely anything to use to my advantage. All I saw was the fence, people, and nothing but sand.
Sand. Grabbing my sword with my right hand, I pushed myself up from the ground with my left. Quickly I clawed into the ground and yanked a handful of sand into Peter’s face. He flinched, trying to avoid the blinding and burning sensation in his eyes. It bought me a few seconds at most. I jumped to my feet and pressed my sword against his throat, “I could say the same”. My mockery earned me a few laughs and supporting shouts from the group.
“Nice move, recruit,” Terric said. “Now enough of the talk, I want to see a fight!”
With small sidesteps we walked in a circle, hoping for the other to make the first move. My hands tingled, feeling the immediate rush of adrenaline pump through my veins. If I waited too long he might have figure out a way to trick me. I used the benefit of surprise and lunged at him. The wooden blade slammed against his, barely blocking my attack in the last moment. With another attempt I spun around as fast as I could, only to strike the side of his sword again. My breath got shorter and my biceps tensed. Quickly I withdrew just in time to dodge his blow. I used the moment to strike at him again, but in vain. In full swing his sword had returned and hit me in the side.
A throbbing pain spread throughout my chest as the watching crowd of recruits applauded Peter. I could barely hold up the sword to block his next slash. My left hand pressed against the bruise, in the hope to make the pain go away.
Our wooden blades crossed. Both of us pushed as hard as we could to gain the upper hand. All my muscles tensed, yet Peter kept pushing my sword farther and farther down. Once my sword would be too low, my whole upper body would be left vulnerable to an attack. Ignoring the pain I grabbed the sword with my left to support my right arm that began to weaken. With clenched teeth I pushed Peter’s sword back up in between our faces where our eyes met in fierce competition. We had reached a stalemate. Neither of us wanted to give up. Mustering all my remaining strength I rammed my shoulder into him.
Tumbling backwards he tried not to fall. I too had lost my balance for a moment, and staggered closer to Peter. With both hands I slammed my sword into him. Cringing in pain he flinched. I struck him a second time before he could even lift his sword. Whimpering he fell to the ground and lay there immobile. Triumphantly I raised my sword and faced the others who cheered for me. Nigel started yelling my name. The others quickly joined the chant. I could not stop a bright smile from crossing my face. Who would have thought that my first day in the Guard would give me happiness?
Suddenly my feet lost ground and I fell face down into the sand. I flipped over and looked at Peter standing over me, holding both our swords in his hands.
“Lesson number two: Never turn your back on a knocked out enemy,” Terric said, slowly approaching us. He took the swords from Peter, “You two had enough. Well done, even though you two fight like fourteen year old girls.”
Peter reached out his hand and helped me up. Giving each other a brotherly handshake he twitched and touched his side, “You better get used to living in a beaten up body. It’s all part of the drill.”
We joined the ranks again as Terric selected the next two recruits to fight. After a few fights he gave us critiques. In his opinion none of us would survive a day beyond the outer wall.
After a day of sparring the sun began to set. When we were finally dismissed, Peter, Nigel and I headed back to the common-hall. Stephan and James already sat at the same table I had met them at that morning.
“So, did Adam get his welcome present yet?” Stephan joked seeing my bruised forehead where the sword had hit me.
“Nah, he kicked Peter’s ass. Ya should have seen it,” Nigel responded smirking at Peter.
“He did well,” Peter said shortly, ignoring the laughs. We walked to the back of the food line and waited to be served. With a plate in my hands I was eager to see what they would serve for dinner. To my surprise the food looked much better than the tasteless grits we had for breakfast. A recruit wearing an apron behind the counter handed me a bowl of vegetable broth accompanied by a fist sized piece of meat. Despite the simple nature of the dinner, it tasted better than anything I could have wished for. After a hard day of training, the food not only filled my stomach but relaxed my nerves. It was nice having company too. I could just sit and listen or let my mind drift. In the city I had so many responsibilities, but out here my only responsibility was staying alive. I had never imagined the Guard to be like this. For once my fear was gone.
“Let’s go,” James said, grabbing his plate and bowl. His whole face turned hard and frightened, “Constantine and his friends are coming.”
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Who is Constantine?”
Everyone got up, ready to leave. I had been too busy talking with the others about this whole new world I had just entered and barely started my dinner.
“Move,” said a harsh voice.
“There are some empty tables over there,” I said. “Me and my friends are still eating.”
“No, you are done eating,” Constantine said, “this is my table.” I turned around and faced a tall blond man in full armor with weapons casually hanging from his belt. Behind him stood three more guards, looking at me like I was vermin.
Angered I got up and stared him straight in the eye, “I was having a nice time with my friends. You, sir, sit down somewhere else and shut your mouth or…”
The guards started laughing. “Or what?” Constantine interrupted.
Any answer would have been foolish. It was clear that he was stronger than me. “This is a mistake,” I said. “It’s my first day. I am not looking for a fight.” I grabbed my bowl and downed the rest of my broth. With the sleeve of my shirt I wiped my mouth and passed them without looking back.
“Your first day, is that so?” Constantine asked, grabbing me by the shoulder, “Where do you think you’re going? You know the rules. The new guy has to give me something I like.”
I hit his hand trying to escape his grip, “Leave me alone.”
“That’s a nice necklace you got there. The eagle would suit me perfectly,” he grabbed the eagle trying to rip the string off my neck.
It was the only physical memory of Katrina I brought with me. I could not allow him to take that away from me. My right hand formed a fist while my left hand ripped his hand off the necklace, “I would not do that if I were you.”
“More of those threats,” he laughed. “Boy you entertain me! Now give me the damn necklace.”
My fist bolted out into his face, knocking Constantine off the ground. His pals quickly caught him and helped him stand.
“Get off me you tools!” he yelled at them while wiping the blood off his bleeding nose. “Take him outside, I am not done with him.”
Chapter 11
“Constantine, forgive him,” Peter said in an attempt to protect me.
“The boy needs a beating,” Constantine hissed.
The common-hall turned silent. Everyone followed us outside, eager to watch a fight. Constantine’s friends finally released me as we exited the hall, violently pushing me to the ground. When I tried to get back up, Constantine kicked me in the side. My stomach contracted, while a soundless cry shot up my throat. A second kick hit me straight into my stomach, forcing part of my dinner back up.
“Leave him alone!” Peter said in a determined voice. He stepped in between my twisted body and Constantine, “You will not hurt him anymore on my watch.”
“Get out of the way kid or I have to bea
t your vigilance out of you,” he responded.
“Then you need to take me up too,” Stephan said stepping next to Peter. James and Nigel joined the two and helped me up to my feet.
“How heartwarming,” Constantine looked around and nodded to his friends, “Let’s get them all then.” Without a warning our three opponents jumped Peter and Stephan. With a loud thud Peter landed on the ground, barely keeping his attacker from beating his face to mush. Nigel stepped behind Peter’s attacker, and clawed his hands into his throat. The veins started to throb at his temples. Seconds before he passed out Nigel released and left him on the floor ringing for air.
At the same time, Stephan and I fought with Constantine and one of his friends. With forceful jabs they went straight for our heads. Every time Constantine aimed for me with his fist, I ducked and hit him back in the stomach. To my miscalculation it hurt me more than him. Hitting the sharp edges of his chainmail cut open my knuckles more and more after every hit.
From all sides the recruits and guards cheered both parties on. The constant shouting of the bystanders strained my nerves, costing my focus. Distracted for just a second, I found his fist right in my face. Tumbling backwards, I watched Stephan nail Constantine’s friend to the ground with a powerful blow to the chin.
The sound of steel put the whole group to silence. Constantine had drawn his sword. Our friends stepped back with their hands in the air. With slow movements and sword extended in front of him, he approached me until the steel poked my chest. In panic my eyes scanned the ground, catching glimpse of the knocked out guard at my side. Rapidly I knelt down and drew his sword, crossing it with Constantine’s.
“This is going too far,” exclaimed Peter, “stop it now!”
Before his friends could hold him, Constantine slashed out at me with an immense speed. I could see and feel the steel racing my way. My throat contracted, not letting any air in or out. I jumped back barely escaping my execution. There was no emotion in his eyes when he struck out at me again and again. With every dodge my legs got weaker. I could only evade a few more strikes before I would be too slow and lose a limb. The crowd was lined up behind me and left nowhere to back up to. Seeing no other option, I raised my weapon, blocked his attack, and interlocked our swords. Like in practice that morning, our swords crossed. With clenched teeth and blood oozing from my bleeding knuckles I tried to push against it, but was immediately out powered. Every second my sword was pushed lower and my hands started losing their grip. Suddenly the angle twisted my arms, sending a flaming pain down my biceps. My hands could no longer hold against his pressure and dropped the sword.
Dark Age Page 7
