“Let us not rush too much, Philip. They have already had to complete stamina training twice as fast as you had to do it, and if you remember correctly, you weren’t blessed until after weapons training,” Sirus reassured them in his deep calm voice.
“Oh, I remember all right. One second I’m charging you across the sparring field, the next second I’m getting peeled off the stones of the castle wall having run straight into it at an uncontrollable speed.” Philip smiled ruefully as he remembered the first day of his blessing. “I hope for your sake that neither of you gets the blessing I have. Don’t get me wrong, it would be great to have someone who can keep up, but man, training gets a little out of control when not even you can see what you are doing, you move so fast.” He added with a chuckle.
“You certainly kept us all on our toes for a while,” Sirus said as both of them grinned knowingly. “Well, we should let these guys go and get some rest and tomorrow you can help us with weapons training, Philip.”
Bidding his mentor and Philip a good night, Garret followed Zorbin down the hall with the giant wolf trailing behind them. He went straight to his room, undressed, and fell into his bed exhausted. Before any thoughts of what the following day might bring even entered his head, he was deeply asleep. Though he never stirred during the night, his mind was busy creating dreams of fantastical abilities that could one day be bestowed upon him. It was no surprise when the dreams turned from possible blessings to dreams of the god Gorandor himself. But it was no coincidence that even Zorbin shared an identical dream of the god in which they were asked to swear their souls to him once again. Upon repeating their oaths, both Garret and Zorbin dreamed of the god holding them within the palm of his hand as if weighting their worth literally. Seemingly satisfied the god disappeared and the fantasies of special powers returned.
* * * * *
Xanth squirmed at the end of Zorbin’s bed. He too dreamed of the god, only the beast recognized the presence much more acutely than had the men. Images flashed through the wolf’s intuitive mind and Xanth’s feelings for each image were noted by the presence there. When shown an image of Zorbin bleeding upon his back and an ogre standing before the lifeless body of the dwarf, Xanth growled loudly in his sleep. It seemed to be the answer the presence wanted, and it quickly departed the wolf’s mind. As the presence passed through the mind of the beast, however, it changed something. The change was subtle yet noticeable, and though Xanth slept, he knew that something was unlike it had been before the visit.
* * * * *
Garret slept peacefully through the entire night until late morning. Sirus always awoke early but must have decided that his new charges needed a good night’s rest to revive their bodies, and allowed them to sleep in. When Garret did finally awake, breakfast was waiting for him in the dining hall, as were Sirus and Philip. Garret was the first to arrive, but Zorbin and Xanth were only a few minutes behind him. They each greeted one another and made quick work of their food.
“Weapons training is going to go a bit different than it usually would, but as we are short on time, I think it best to make these changes,” Sirus stated, and continued after a slight pause. “Generally we would teach you to wield each and every weapon in the armory. Due to our lack of time, however, I should ask each of you to choose a single weapon that is of your liking and we shall concentrate on whatever weapon you might choose.” Sirus concluded.
Finished with their breakfast, Philip headed out to the knight’s sparring ground and Sirus led Garret and Zorbin to the armory. Swinging the large wooden door open, Sirus stepped aside to allow his charges entrance before him. Zorbin was first to enter and muttered something about the high quality of the weapons in his deep guttural voice. Garret on the other hand said nothing, instead he looked around the room in astonishment. The room’s walls were each entirely covered in large wooden racks, and each rack was filled to capacity with the largest assortment of weapons Garret had ever seen amassed in one place. Maces and mauls, as well as swords, daggers and bows lined one wall. Spears and staves shared another with scythes and lances. Garret was uncertain of the names of many of the weapons, though he was well aware they all served the same purpose. Killing.
Garret already knew the weapon he was looking for, and located several of them to choose from almost immediately. Walking to the stand filled with large, dual-edged swords, Garret sized them to find one of similar dimensions to that which he already owned. Choosing one, Garret hefted the weapon easily in one hand and then tested its weight with both hands. The sword was indeed equal in size to the one he had received as a gift from his friends in Vineleaf what felt like a lifetime ago, yet this blade felt unbelievably light. Garret decided to use this sword despite its unusual lightness and reached back into the rack to retrieve the sheath too. Sheathing the large sword, Garret turned to watch as Zorbin too chose a weapon.
* * * * *
Zorbin looked around the armory with the eyes of a master smith. It was dwarven tradition that all males learned to create the best of weapons and armor. Zorbin, though an oddity among his race, was included in this custom. He noted the quality of the weapons held within this arsenal and knew that not a single piece of steel contained here had been forged by human hands. Some of the weapons were of elven design, but most were of dwarven creation.
Zorbin could not help but to be impressed with the knights’ cache of fine weapons. For him it was an honor to choose an item from among them. It was also his intention to stay true to all of his passions, one of the strongest of which was swinging the hammer in a forge. So it was with much careful thought that Zorbin approached a gem of a weapon across the room.
This specimen had caught his eye early, and he felt drawn to it and so chose to handle it and see if it was a proper fit for him. Removing the hammer from its rack, Zorbin tested it for both weight and balance. As expected, it was finely crafted by a master smith among the dwarves. Zorbin hefted the massive hammer to take a look at the engravings upon it to see if he recognized the work. It was indeed crafted in a familiar style, but the specific creator remained unknown to Zorbin. He was able to wield the massive battle hammer one-handed, even though it was designed for both hands. The head of the hammer was crafted as a large steel block with squat spikes fastened into the striking surfaces. A thick shaft of the same steel protruded from the head, slowly tapering to the handle where the steel was wrapped with leather. From the bottom of the handle a large ball of steel made up the butt of the weapon and from the ball protruded one long, slender spike. The entire weapon was engraved in silver with dwarven symbols of strength, power, honor and integrity, and it was polished to a lustrous sheen that made the surface appear to be wet though no moisture was present in the room.
Having chosen their arms, both of the young men turned and headed for the door where Sirus stood watching them.
“Ah, I had expected as much Garret, as I remember well your own broadsword. However Zorbin, I had expected you to choose an axe for some reason,” Sirus admitted.
“Indeed an axe is a common choice among my people, but I feel more at home with a hammer in my hand,” Zorbin replied in his thick, deep voice.
Sirus led them out of the room and back down the hall. They exited through the main door and headed east. As they passed the end of the knights’ keep, Xanth padded up to them having already made his way outside somehow. The giant wolf fell into step beside his master and the four continued walking toward the sparring grounds. It was not a long walk, and as they approached, they could see Philip upon the field. He was kneeling over something on the ground and appeared to be sorting through it as they came within speaking distance.
“Were you able to find them appropriate equipment?” Sirus asked Philip as they neared.
“As you might expect, Garret’s was easy, Zorbin’s a bit more complicated. I hope it fits him well enough for today and we can have it altered if need be,” Philip responded.
“Well, they won’t be doing any actual sparring until the
y are ready. I just want them used to the mail,” Sirus replied.
The three men and the wolf all stopped as they joined Philip on the field. Before Philip sat two neat piles of items upon the grass. Each pile contained a padded leather jerkin and a chainmail tunic with a coif. Zorbin paid the armor little attention as he was accustomed to seeing it in every variation, but his new friend, Garret, lifted and inspected the mail with a keen interest.
“Suit up, guys. We need to get started,” Sirus told them.
Zorbin quickly put on the padded jerkin and watched as Garret followed his lead. After lacing up the jerkins they then pulled on the mail.
* * * * *
Garret soon realized the mail was heavier than he remembered, though not heavy enough to hinder his ability to move freely by a noticeable margin. He tested it thoroughly, moving his joints and swinging his arms to try and anticipate any limits the armor might impose upon his body. Finding none, Garret waited quietly for instruction. While they were dressing in the armor, Sirus and Philip had walked a short distance away to discuss something in private and each spoke in turn to one another. Finishing their discussion, they returned to their newly armored charges and each had a mischievous look upon his face as they again approached.
“We have decided upon a means to quickly train you in combat arms. We will first show you how to properly wield your weapon. We will teach you the many ways to attack and defend using the weapon of your choosing. This portion of your training would usually last several weeks, however we hope to cover it all in two days. It will be two very long days, but if you learn quickly, and you memorize that which we show you, then you will be ready for the next phase of your battle training.” Sirus’s wicked grin returned with the last sentence. “Garret you go with Philip, and Zorbin you stay here with me.”
Sirus was already explaining different techniques of battle hammer wielding to the dwarf when Garret and Philip strode across the field. Once out of earshot, and when they had enough room to train separately from the others, Philip stopped and rounded on Garret.
“I’m not supposed to say anything, but I often alter the rules to make sure I win. I have two days to teach you all I can about the broadsword. Then on the fourth day you will spar with Zorbin. Sirus is curious which one of you will triumph, and he thinks it the best way for you to learn more quickly,” Philip said quietly.
“That only accounts for days one, two and four. What are we to do on day three?” Garret asked, unsure if he had misheard.
“Ah, you do have a quick mind! That is good. You will learn quickly enough, but in answer to your question I am afraid that you will only know what happens on day three when it arrives. For now I need you to focus on the lesson at hand,” Philip smiled wickedly.
Thus begun two very long days indeed. In the following forty-eight hours, Garret learned every offensive and defensive move possible with his chosen weapon. He too learned how to use every inch of their weapon to its full potential. Instead of stopping for food or sleep, they trained through the hunger and through two nights and into the early hours of the third morning. Despite the lack of rest and nutrition, the training felt quite easy to Garret in comparison to running stairs with a barrel on his back. That being so, even after the full two days had passed and his training completed, Garret felt awake and full of energy. He had done his best to commit everything to memory. He did not want to disappoint Philip who was training him, nor Sirus the leader of the knights. He focused on the battle with Zorbin to come, a battle he intended to win.
* * * * *
Zorbin did not feel weary or taxed in any way either. He concentrated on the lesson being taught to him and memorized every action of his teacher. None of them had left the field in more than two days, and that included the giant black and gray wolf Xanth. He rested now, as he had the entire time, in the middle of the field, his eyes and ears alert, watching the men as they trained. He still watched as the men finished their practice and crossed the field to meet again in the middle to speak, just paces away from the wolf.
“Is Garret ready?” Sirus asked.
“I believe him to be,” Philip replied. “How about Zorbin?” Philip then asked sounding a bit cocky.
“He learns very quickly, I think him quite able,” Sirus responded. He turned to the new knights. “How do you guys feel after such a long exercise?”
“I feel fine,” Garret said simply.
“I am ready to continue,” stated Zorbin with his dwarven accent.
“Then we shall continue as planned. Today’s lesson is on fear. Today you will learn to not fear battle, and to not fear taking a blow. The only way to overcome a fear is to face it or experience it. Today I am afraid you will probably sustain injury. You may break a bone, perhaps several. Chances are you will leave much blood on the field. But do not worry, we have Daniella standing by if her services are required,” Sirus explained with a very serious expression. “Garret, you and I will spar today. Zorbin, you will be sparring with Philip. Hold nothing back. If you see an opportunity, take it. We will give you no concessions today. Remember well what you have learned in the past two days and use it. After all, there is a chance to leave the field today without injury. All you have to do is defeat us,” Sirus concluded.
* * * * *
Garret’s mood deteriorated in an instant. He knew well that some day he would receive an injury in battle. Chances were he would receive many. Never had he imagined though that with only two days’ worth of training he would be facing probably the most feared and respected opponent in all of Valdadore, perhaps the whole of Thurr. Garret had not feared injury before but he certainly did now. Before the announcement, getting hurt in battle was a possibility with an unknown time or place. Now, however, injury was nearly guaranteed and Garret could find no way to look forward to it. Apparently his thoughts showed plainly upon his face.
“Courage, Garret, today you face a normal man. Philip and I will not be using our blessings. This is just a test of what you have learned, and a lesson on controlling your emotions in the heat of battle,” Sirus stated.
This new knowledge had the intended effect and Garret actually felt better about the coming fight. Man to man, Sirus and he were nearly equal in size. Sirus obviously had experience on his side, but Garret had youth. Without his blessing, Garret thought, Sirus was just another man. Surely he could best him, or in the very least hold his own.
Realizing it was to be a fair fight boosted Garret’s confidence ten-fold. He quickly planned his fight. Using speed to his advantage, he would try to wear Sirus out. If he could constantly be on the offensive, Sirus would be forced to counter all of his blows. When the older man was tired, Garret was sure he could achieve victory.
Garret’s simple plan was finalized in his mind as he watched Philip lead Zorbin across the field where he himself had been only a short time ago. Returning his attention to the man he was to battle, Garret observed as Sirus unsheathed a long broadsword of his own. The older man took a few steps back, and flexing his knees he raised the large sword directly above his head. Garret recognized the stance as one he had been taught that could be used both to attack and to defend. Sirus was keeping his own intentions a secret.
“Whenever you are ready, young hunter,” Sirus said with an expression as smooth as glass on his face.
Garret pulled the long blade from the sheath strapped to his back and mimicked the stance of his opponent. Lunging forward, Garret brought his massive blade down in a powerful arc aimed at Sirus’s shoulder. Sirus dropped to one knee, buying him valuable fractions of a second before the blow would land. Sweeping across with his sword at the same time, it connected with Garret’s blade, driving it wide of its mark, cutting nothing but air. Garret had not anticipated the move, and the momentum of his swing being interrupted caught him off guard and caused him to lose his balance just briefly. It was all the time Sirus needed to recover from the blow and launch one of his own. Following the arc his blade had made when he used it to defend hims
elf, Sirus allowed the weight of the steel to carry the blade down and around and again past Garret. When the blade was clear of Garret, Sirus quickly jerked it back in the direction it had swung from. Thrusting it, he drove the flat edge of his sword into the back of Garret’s knee.
Garret yelped not so much in pain as surprise when the sword struck. Already off balance the blow drove Garret’s knee to the ground. Collecting his thoughts, Garret reeled back to his feet and rounded on his master, just in time to see another blow sweeping through the air at chest level. Garret nearly did not respond in time. Raising his sword as quickly as he was able, Garret deflected the blow, but not entirely. Though Sirus’s blade did not strike him directly, it glanced off his own blade, slamming into his left shoulder. Pain exploded through Garret’s body. The blow had not pierced his mail, but it had landed true enough to cause damage.
Garret had to rethink his strategy. Sirus was obviously not slowed by his age, a mistake Garret was learning from quickly. Instead of keeping the older knight on the defensive as he had planned, it seemed the roles had been reversed from the beginning. If Garret did not alter his tactics quickly he was not likely to last long.
As Garret and Sirus both recovered from the last bout, Garret revised his approach. He recovered a fraction of a second before Sirus, but did not launch his own counter attack. Instead he used this one moment to watch the older knight’s movements. As Sirus again arced his blade through the air towards Garret, it was met with a prepared defense. This time Garret was easily able to deflect the blow with the tip of his blade. When the blow was diverted, he then stepped closer to the older man and, changing his grip upon his massive sword, he drove the pommel home into the center of Sirus’s chest. Garret had landed a blow, though not with his blade, but he had hit his mark and heard well his opponent’s sudden loss of breath. It was a small victory, but it was one he had earned.
Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) Page 37
