The Godling Chronicles : Bundle - Books 4-6

by Brian D. Anderson

  Orias threw his head back in laughter. “You keep telling yourself that if it helps. But I’ve heard the instructors talking. They say you’re the brightest kid to come here since…well…since me I suppose.”

  This time is was Aremiel who laughed.

  “Come on,” Orias said. “I’ll take you to your lesson. What do you have next?”

  His face turned sour. “Healing Arts.”

  “Ah. Mistress Malicia. She’s a mean one all right. I used to call her Mistress Malice. Not to her face of course. But if you’re going to be a knight of Amon Dähl, then you'll need to know healing.”

  Aremiel didn’t bother to tell him that he had no intention of being a knight. His mother wouldn’t allow it.

  The two boys wound their way through the halls until they reached the healing chamber. Aremiel was beaming the entire way. And to make things even better, he discovered that he had arrived before the other children in his group. Usually, by the time he'd figured out where he was going, the lesson had already begun.

  He had heard Orias’ name mentioned by the other children. He was said to be the most gifted boy ever to set foot in Valshara.

  And he’s my friend, he thought while taking his seat at the long table of herbs and strange liquids. If he hadn't been afraid of embarrassment, he would have jumped up and down with sheer happiness. Mistress Malicia gave him a displeased look and a funny kind of snort. Mistress Malice, he said with a grin…but not aloud, of course.

  Despite Aremiel's raised spirits, as the day progressed a sinking realization inevitably crept in. Today was to be his first day of combat training. He had never so much as threatened another child before, let alone fought one.

  By the time he arrived at the door of the training room, his palms were sweating and his heart felt as if it would burst from his chest. The walls of the fifty-foot square room were lined with small round shields and various wooden swords. Most of the other pupils were already there and gathered in groups of four. Aremiel's eyes searched desperately around for Orias, but he was nowhere to be seen. Laraad, however, was all too easy to spot. He was standing with the same two boys who'd been with him in the hall earlier.

  He strolled over, a taunting sneer on his face. “Well, well, you actually showed up. What a shame your new friend Orias isn’t here. But don’t worry. You can partner up with us. We’re one short in our group.”

  Aremiel just stood still in the doorway.

  “Move it, boy,” came a gruff voice from behind. “You’re blocking the way in.”

  He felt a massive hand grip his shoulder and move him aside. Looking up, he saw a tall, broad shouldered man with a shaved head and thick powerful arms. His face was scarred and pitted, and his eyes burned bright blue. He looked back at Aremiel without expression for a moment, then strode to the center of the room.

  “I am Master Kioshi,” he bellowed. The room went instantly quiet. “I am a knight of Amon Dähl and your combat instructor. Should any of you so much as twitch without permission you will face me in hand-to-hand combat. And let me assure you, you do not want that.”

  His eyes swept around the room. “Many of you have been in my class before.” His gaze settled fleetingly on Aremiel. “Some of you have not. For those who are new here, listen, learn, and do what you are told. That way we will get along fine. Test my patience and I will send you to the healing chamber without a moment's thought.

  “I am hard. But I am fair. All will be treated equally. Some here want to become knights. Others will pursue different areas of expertise. But I don’t care if you aspire to be a knight or a cook, you will still learn to protect yourself. My job is to see that you can…and I am very good at my job.”

  He began rearranging some of the groups. “Aremiel. Team up with Laraad. He needs a partner.”

  Aremiel’s heart sank. He could see Laraad grinning from ear to ear.

  “Now, boy!” shouted Kioshi.

  Aremiel snapped to attention and hastily obeyed.

  “I’m going to break your scrawny little neck,” Laraad whispered.

  Fear gripped him. He had heard that, from time to time, children were killed during combat training. Usually it was an accident. This won’t be one of those times, he thought.

  “Today we will work on basic punches and blocks,” Kioshi continued. “I know that you older students have been through this before. But you are to help the younger students learn. And I will be evaluating all of you. For the older children who want to join your friends at the end of the week in the advanced class, I had better see some fire. Those who want to stay here with the younger children…” He looked from group to group slowly. “That can also be arranged.”

  Kioshi reached into one of the groups and pulled a girl to the center of the room. Aremiel thought she looked to be about twelve years old. Her long red hair was tied into a tight ponytail, and her gangly limbs made her look quite tall – though when standing next to Kioshi she appeared meek and fragile.

  Kioshi allowed the girl to punch him several times. Aremiel was amazed at how fast and accurate she was. Though she couldn’t hurt the instructor, had she been fighting another student, the impact would have been devastating. I bet she’ll be going to the advanced class, he thought. Kioshi then showed everyone the blocks to counter these types of attack.

  “Now square off,” he shouted. “Older students block. Younger students punch.”

  Aremiel faced Laraad and held up his hands as he had seen the girl do. Laraad was still grinning.

  “Go ahead,” he said mockingly. “Punch me.”

  Without thinking, Aremiel’s fist shot out and landed solidly on Laraad’s chin. The boy stumbled back, his eyes wide with surprise.

  “That's good, Aremiel,” Kioshi called from the other side of the room. “And, Laraad. If you plan to move on from this class, you had better show me something.”

  Laraad’s face turned red and his jaw clenched tight. “Try that again, runt.”

  It took all of Aremiel’s control to keep from trembling. What did I do? He’s going to kill me for sure now.

  They faced each other again. Aremiel shifted right and crouched low before throwing another punch. His fist made contact for a second time, on this occasion hard into Laraad’s ribcage. The boy let out a grunt and doubled over.

  “Laraad!” yelled Kioshi. “What the hell is wrong with you? Let that happen again and you will stay here with the younger students.”

  The humiliated boy could see the other children snickering and whispering to each other about him. Aremiel groaned inwardly. This just keeps getting worse and worse. He could think of only one way to help ease the situation.

  They faced up yet again. But this time Aremiel made sure Laraad could see what he was intending well in advance. In a clumsy and exaggerated motion, he stepped left and threw a punch at the boy's right cheek. Laraad raised his arm and easily deflected the blow. After giving a snort of satisfaction, his cocky grin suddenly returned.

  Three more times Aremiel threw awkward punches, allowing Laraad to block each one. He spotted Kioshi looking on with interest.

  “Now switch,” said the instructor. “But do not use full force.”

  This brought a sinister look to Laraad’s face. “Now you’re going to taste blood,” he warned. It was clear he had no intention of obeying Kioshi’s order.

  Aremiel readied himself. Laraad threw a straight right aimed for the bridge of his nose. But he tilted his head and raised his arm quickly to deflect the blow past his right ear. Though it was a miss, the contact with his forearm was hard and pain shot all the way up to his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he did his best to ignore the injury.

  Almost before he was ready, Laraad struck again – this time at his abdomen. Aremiel dropped his elbows just in time to successfully block once again, though the force was still hard enough to promise painful bruises later.

  Laraad's frustration and anger was growing; his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
He threw a wild punch at Aremiel’s jaw, but he ducked and spun away. The enraged youth snorted – he still wasn’t done. Letting out a wild growl, and in complete defiance of the rules, he unleashed a whole barrage of punches. Amazingly, Aremiel found that he was able to block most of these, but a few glancing blows did manage to make it through his defense.

  “Laraad, enough!” roared Kioshi.

  Laraad instantly stood at attention, his chest heaving and his face bright red.

  “What did you think you were doing?” the instructor demanded.

  Aremiel cut in quickly. “Sir, it’s my fault. I asked him to do that. I wanted to see if I could block more than one blow at a time.”

  Kioshi looked from Laraad to Aremiel, and then back again. “Is this true?”

  “Ye...Yes, Master Kioshi. He asked me to do it. I wasn’t really trying to hurt him.”

  Kioshi scrutinized the two boys for an uncomfortably long time. “Aremiel. What you did was dangerous. And you Laraad - you should know better.”

  “Yes, sir,” the two boys said in unison.

  “Both of you are done here for today,” he said. “And you had better pray to the gods that I don’t decide to report this to the High Lady. Now get out of my sight.”

  The boys bowed and hurried from the room. They walked down the hall together in silence until stopping at a point where the passage split left and right. Here, Laraad grabbed Aremiel by the collar and thrust his face in close.

  “This isn’t over, runt,” he snarled. After shoving Aremiel to one side, he set off down the hallway leading left.

  Why did I even come here, Aremiel asked himself? But he already knew the answer. It was his mother. She wanted him close. And in truth, he had wanted it too.

  The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Laraad was nowhere to be seen, and no one else tried to bother him. However, he did notice that he was receiving more stares than usual from the other children. It was obvious that word of what had happened in the training room had spread. This only made him feel even more alienated and alone. He wished that he would see Orias. But there was still no sign of his new friend.

  For the first time since arriving in Valshara, he was glad he was staying in his mother’s chambers, and not the boys' barracks. Laraad would be there. And even if he wasn’t, the other children would only talk and whisper behind his back.

  After completing his final lesson of the day, he decided to skip supper and go for a walk in the gardens. They were usually empty at this time, and he found the solitude enjoyable.

  It was spring and the roses were in bloom, filling the air with their distinctly sweet scent. He walked along the winding slate paths, scarcely noticing the exquisite beauty surrounding him. On reaching the far side of the grounds, he found a bench and sat down. For a time he went over the day’s events in his mind, wondering if there was anything he could have done to make a better outcome.

  His mother’s words echoed in his head. “Be kind and considerate.” That’s what she had told him just before they'd walked through the gates here together for the first time. “If you do that, people will do the same to you.” How wrong she was!

  Just then, he heard the sounds of approaching footfalls. “I thought I saw you come this way.” It was Laraad. He was standing just a few yards down the path. His usual two friends were with him.

  “What do you want?” Aremiel asked. But he already knew the answer to that.

  “I told you it wasn’t over.” The other two boys began cracking their knuckles. “I bet you thought that was funny – humiliating me in class. Didn’t you?”

  “I wasn’t trying to humiliate you, I swear.”

  “Save your breath, runt. Let’s see how tough you are without Master Kioshi to save you.”

  “Please. Don’t do this. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’m sorry.”

  Laraad laughed. “Not yet you aren’t.”

  Aremiel glanced to his right. The path ended just beyond the bench. He was trapped; there was nowhere to run. Just as this thought was forming, the three boys charged in.

  He leapt to his feet and tried to duck beneath them. But they were too many, and they were too strong. Laraad’s friends each grabbed one of his arms, hauling him up straight. With a sneer on his face, Laraad stepped forward, his hand balled into a tight fist. Instinctively, Aremiel flicked up his foot, planting it hard into Laraad's groin. The boy let out a sharp yelp of pain and then dropped to his knees.

  Aremiel began to thrash about wildly in an effort to make the other two boys lose their grip on him. But his hopes were dashed. They held on tight until Laraad had recovered. He moved in close again. Thick knots of veins were now protruding from his brow, and his eyes were ablaze with hatred.

  “You’ll pay for that,” he growled.

  “Don’t hit him in the face,” one of his friends advised. “His mother will know.”

  Aremiel gasped for air as Laraad struck him hard in the stomach. But that was only the beginning. Again and again the same vicious punches sunk into his body. He began seriously fearing that he might die from being unable to breathe. His ribs were on fire, and he felt as if he would vomit at any second.

  “I think he’s had enough,” he heard the boy holding his right arm say.

  Laraad spat on the ground. “I’ll say when he’s had enough.” He grabbed Aremiel’s chin and pushed up his head. “Ready for more, runt?”

  “Are you?” responded another voice.

  It was Orias. He was standing right behind Laraad, a dangerous looking smile on his face.

  Laraad barely had time to turn before Orias' fist crashed into his nose. Blood flew from his nostrils, splattering streaks of red all around his mouth. The other two bullies immediately released Aremiel and moved in, but Orias was prepared. The heel of his boot sank into the stomach of the first boy. The second managed to throw a punch, but Orias spun sideways to avoid it and then struck him on the temple with the tip of his elbow. After going down, neither boy attempted to get up again.

  Laraad, on the other hand, was still standing, even though blood was still gushing from his broken nose and by now soaking almost the entire front of his shirt. All semblance of sanity appeared to have temporarily deserted him

  “I’ll kill you!” he screamed, throwing a cluster of wild, uncoordinated punches at his tormentor.

  But Orias merely stepped to one side and rammed his knee up into Laraad's midsection. One final punch to the jaw then sent the enraged youth into deep unconsciousness.

  Orias hurried over to Aremiel, who had collapsed to the ground immediately after being released. “Can you walk?” he asked.

  Aremiel merely nodded, for the moment still unable to speak.

  Bending down, Orias wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him up. “We need to go before anyone sees you here,” he said.

  After a few yards, Aremiel insisted that he was able to move along under his own power, albeit while bent forward and gingerly clutching at his ribs. Luckily, it was getting dark and most of the temple was at supper. The few people they did encounter were preoccupied and took no notice of them.

  Orias guided him to a door near the west guard tower and up a narrow stairwell leading to the ramparts. On reaching the top, they walked north until well behind most of the temple's structures.

  “No one can see us here unless they come up,” Orias told him.

  By now Aremiel could just about speak, though his body was still aching terribly. “But we’re not allowed to be up here,” he croaked.

  “Don’t worry,” Orias said confidently. “I bring the night sentinels wine from time to time. They won’t say anything.”

  Aremiel was about to protest, but the look of assurance and kindness on the other boy's face calmed his fears and reservations.

  “Thank you,” he said. “If you hadn’t helped me....”

  Orias held up a hand to silence him. “Forget it. Friends don’t need to thank one another. You would have done the same for me, I’m sur
e.”

  Friends. The very sound of the word brought Aremiel a sense of peace and belonging that he had not felt since arriving. “Why would you want me as a friend?” he asked.

  Orias laughed and slapped him on the back. “Because one day we’ll both be knights. That alone makes us friends.”

  “You really think I can be a knight?”

  “If what I heard about your first day of combat training is true, I’m sure of it.” He leaned his elbows on the edge of the wall and gazed out toward the distant forest. “You do want to be a knight, don’t you?”

  Aremiel shrugged. “My mother wants me to be a historian. She says that I’m smart enough, and that they lead a good life.”

  “A historian? Really? Well, I suppose they have their place.” He locked eyes with Aremiel. “But what do you want?”

  “I don’t want to disappoint my mother. But I don’t want to just watch people and write things down either. I...I want to be a knight.”

  “Then you will be,” Orias said. “Then people can watch us and write about our deeds.”

  Aremiel was grinning from ear to ear. “Why do you want to be a knight?”

  “My father,” he replied, his head held high. “The first time I saw him fight, I knew what I wanted.”

  “So your father is a knight of Amon Dähl?”

  “My father is the greatest knight alive,” he boasted. “Ask anyone about Morzahn. They’ll tell you. Of course, my mother wants me to be an agent like her. She’s afraid that I’ll end up getting killed.”

  “Your mother is an agent and your father a knight.” Aremiel was greatly impressed. “No wonder you’re so good.”

  Orias raised an eyebrow. “Me? You’re the one who trounced a boy twice your size on your first day of combat training. They’ll be talking about that for weeks.”

  This dampened Aremiel’s mood. “I wish they wouldn’t. And I wish my mother wasn’t the High Lady. Everybody hates me. They think I’m only here because of her. They say I didn’t earn my place like they did.”

  Orias laughed contemptuously. “Who says that? Laraad and his bunch of morons? Who cares what those toads think? People said the same thing about me. I was the youngest student ever to be accepted here.” He gave Aremiel a playful punch on the shoulder. “That is, until you arrived. And don’t worry about Laraad. I don’t think he’ll be bothering you again.”