The sergeant motioned for them to walk toward the competition field, “I failed because I was not fast enough. I was removed during the first stage.” His words were matter of fact, but they had a touch of emotion to them.
Flare was astounded, “But that’s absurd. I mean you fight well, you’re intelligent ...”
“But Flare, only a fighter who can pass all three stages is considered worthy. I simply couldn’t make it.” He paused, shrugging his shoulders, the echoes of those distant days playing across his face. “But, after I failed to make it into the guardians, I joined the regular army, and I rose through the ranks. I had a distinguished military career, until a few years ago when I received a minor leg injury in a battle with a goblin raiding party. It was nothing serious, but it kept me from remaining with my unit.” He patted his right leg as he spoke, “After that happened, I was allowed to instruct the recruits. And I have remained here as an instructor ever since.” He grimaced a little, “I don't enjoy teaching as much as I enjoyed the army.”
Flare heard the sergeant's words, but a sinking feeling was starting to settle on him. 'If he couldn’t make it, then what chance do I have?'
They walked in silence the rest of the way to the assembling field. Wellmann slowed, but kept walking, “Flare, most of the recruits never make it. But, if you don’t make it, then you simply have to accept it, and go on. ”
'Easy for you to say.' Flare thought. 'You missed your chance thirty years ago, but if I miss my chance, it will be today.'
They emerged from between the temporary dwellings, onto the main assembly field. Flare was simply amazed at the number of people gathered on the field. They were scattered around in groups of various sizes, ranging from individuals and small groups, to groups that numbered thirty to forty.
The young warriors that hoped to enter the guardians were easily picked out of the crowds. They were young and physically fit, and in clothes which were made for physical activity.
“Come, Flare. You must register. They’re almost ready to begin.” Sergeant Wellmann led him to a wide ring of tables.
After Flare was through registering, he stood talking with Wellmann. Wellmann motioned toward a large group of men standing in the middle of the field. “Those men are from house Steel, and in fact, the young man at the middle of the bunch is the fourth son of Lord Steel. His name is Keltin. I expect him to do well.”
Flare looked at the young man that Wellmann had pointed at. He was a handsome man with shoulder length blond hair and a muscular physique. Even from this distance, Flare could see that his clothes were expensive. He carried himself with an air of superiority and indifference, and Flare hoped that he wouldn't have to train with him. He had grown up in the elven court with too many men just like this young Lord Steel. He sighed, wishing that the competition would start.
After a time, the lists were closed and no more applicants would be allowed to enter. Young soldiers in white outfits and a red arm band appeared from nowhere. They started shouting orders, and Wellmann leaned over and said something that Flare could not quite make out. Flare turned to ask him what he had said, but jumped and turned back toward the field when a voice shouted close behind him. A young man with a red arm band was staring at him from a short distance away.
“Did you hear me?” The young man shouted. “Get over here now and get in line!”
Flare jumped to follow orders, 'Not the start that I was hoping for.'
The young warriors and magi were assembled into ranks. Each soldier, and their escort, was required to stand at attention while they were reviewed by nobles and army officials.
They waited most of the morning, while the hopeful warriors were inspected. The sun was well up in the sky, and the morning coolness was long gone when a general finally stopped in front of Flare. Flare tried to ignore the bead of sweat that ran down his cheek.
“So, you are the elven prince that wishes to join the guardians.” The general asked. His tone was more curious than anything. The general had dark tanned skin and short white hair. He had thick bushy eyebrows and a small scar on the right side of his neck. The dress uniform that he wore seemed out of place on him. He looked like a man that should be wearing armor and fighting goblins, not inspecting young troops. “Tell me, young prince, are you willing to give your life defending Telur?”
“Sir, if that is what is required of me, then I will give my life defending the city and people of Telur. I hope that it doesn't come to that, but if I die, then I intend to die fighting, and to kill as many of the enemy as I can.” He answered the question easily, Wellmann had prepared him for these types of questions, but he thought the answer seemed rehearsed.
The general nodded, “Well said, young prince, but I hope that you never have to experience that fate. Although, perhaps we are looking too far into the future, you still must win your way into the guardians.” The general paused, “Good luck to you.” With that, the general and his entourage, left Flare, and continued their inspection of the troops.
Wellmann leaned towards Flare and said, “That was general Vergillion. I think your answer impressed him. ”
They spent the rest of that day being inspected, and then being split into three groups. Each group would undergo the physical part of the competition on the next day, but each group in a different area. He was disappointed that he had to wait another day for the competition to begin.
Flare patiently waited until it was his turn to be selected, and then they were released. Taking Sergeant Wellmann’s advice, He retired to his tent, so that he would be well rested.
The next morning, Flare woke well before the sun came up, as did most of the novice students. He ate breakfast, even though he wasn’t hungry, in a large tent that was open on the sides. There were a large number of students that were also waiting, but they stayed to themselves.
When breakfast was done, he went to the competition field and found where his group was already beginning to assemble.
Sergeant Wellmann soon joined him, but was quiet and reserved.
Soon, the students were all assembled, and the competition began.
The three groups were further sub-divided into smaller groups. Flare found himself in the company of twenty young men, and ten young women. A group of four officers were in charge; they directed the competition and judged the results.
The competition was to remove those soldiers which were average or below average. What this meant, was that if all the students were judged above average in an event, then they all passed, but if they were all judged average or below average, then they all failed.
The first several tests were tests of speed. They competed is short races, and in long races. Flare performed excellent in each event, easily outdistancing the slower humans. Hope sprang in him as he easily passed these initial tests, but he tried to be cautious and not get over confident.
He was surprised by how many students were already being released. After the races, six or seven had already failed out. He had expected a large percentage to fail, but not this soon. His stomach ached with worry.
The competitors then had their quickness, agility, and flexibility tested. They competed in exercises that were designed to test these abilities, and once again Flare easily exceeded the abilities of the other students.
After several hours of speed and quickness tests, they reached the section of the tests that Flare had been dreading, strength and stamina testing. Upper body strength and lower body strength were both tested by various exercises.
The first two tests were real simple. The students were forced to do to numerous repetitions of push-ups and pull-ups. These tests were easy to judge, if the students did all the repetitions that they were told to do, then they passed. However, if they could not do the exercises, then they failed. Only two students were unable to pass. Flare, thanks to Sergeant Wellmann, passed these tests fairly easy.
The next test was considerably harder. It involved an oak plank that was about three and a half feet long. From
each end hung a two foot chain that attached a metal cube to each of the plank’s ends. The plank was placed on the shoulders of the students, and ran behind their heads. Then each student was required to lift the plank using their back and legs, until they were standing fully erect. Each student had to repeat this procedure twenty five times.
Flare nervously awaited his turn. With each student's turn, his anxiety continued to grow. Several students were unable to complete this exercise, and failed out of the competition. This drill concerned him more than any previous ones had.
Finally Flare’s turn arrived. He knelt down and got the plank on his shoulders. One judge stood in front of him, and was responsible for counting each repetition. A judge also stood on each side of Flare, to observe his attempt.
“Are you ready, son?” The judge in front asked.
“Yes sir,”
“It’s simple. You have to stand up with the plank twenty five times. Once you pick up the plank, you can not set it down. If in the judge’s opinion, you set the plank down and take the weight off your shoulders, then you fail. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Flare said, a huge knot forming in his stomach.
He stood there for several seconds, taking deep breaths and measuring the weight of the plank on his shoulders. Finally, he stood up, with the weights swinging from the plank.
“One,” the judge in front barked.
‘This isn’t that heavy.’ Flare thought. ‘This isn’t going to be that hard.’
“Two.”
Flare continued lifting the plank, brushing the weight against the ground, each time he lowered it.
“Eleven.”
Flare began to lose his breath, as the weights began to feel heavier and heavier. His back was starting to hurt, and his legs were feeling weak. He continued to force his legs and back to lift.
“Sixteen.”
Flare was short of breath, and he was definitely getting weak in the legs. Each lift was a struggle, but he stayed focused and continued.
“Twenty-one.”
Flare lifted the weights again, and held it there, trying to catch his breath.
“Continue! Now!” The judge to his right yelled.
Flare immediately lowered the weights, and straining all the way, lifted it back up.
“Twenty-two.”
He was red in the face, out of breath, and his back was throbbing. But in spite of this, he forced the weights up again.
“Twenty-three.”
Flare was so weak in his legs, that he felt top heavy. He tried to force the weights up again, but his legs almost refused. He stumbled forward, quickly regaining his balance, and he kept the weights off the ground. Straining, and exhaling all the way, he forced the weights up once again.
“Twenty-four.”
He was about half way up on the last repetition, when he reached a point where he thought he could go no farther. He stood there for several moments, straining to raise the plank one more time.
“Come on boy. Up or down.” The judge to his right said again.
Flare felt the weight begin to force him down.
He thought of his training with Sergeant Wellmann, but the weights continued to slip down.
He thought of the confidence that the king had displayed in him, but it didn't help
Finally, he thought of his uncle, Prince Yolstice. The derision and laughter that he would have to face if he failed. Slowly the weights began to rise. He put every last bit of strength that he had into lifting that plank.
“Twenty-five.”
Flare fell to his knees, out of breath, and exhausted. But he had done it, and he smiled knowing that Prince Yolstice had been the deciding advantage.
Flare half-stumbled away from the judges, and collapsed in the shade of a huge oak tree.
The test was the last one of the morning, and he had a couple of hours until the tests resumed. Flare ate sparingly, knowing that he needed to eat, but really not wanting anything. He knew there were still some tough tests ahead.
He was surprised that there was only a single test in the afternoon; it was a twelve mile obstacle course. It involved climbing, swimming, and running through wilderness and hills. The swimming and running did not bother him, but the climbing squandered his remaining stamina. He just managed to complete the course in time, and collapsed to the ground, wore out.
Sergeant Wellmann was waiting for him at the finish line. “Great job, Flare. You did it!” Wellmann said, leaning over him, and grinning.
“Yeah, ... Great.” Flare managed, breathing hard. “Where....where can I get some water?”
After resting, Flare made his way back towards the temporary shelters.
Wellmann was quiet for most of the trip, but spoke as they were nearing the rooms. “You did really good today, over one-third of the students failed, you should be proud. But tomorrow will not be easy. Tomorrow, they will test your skills, to see if you have the potential to be an excellent soldier.” He paused, “I think you're more ready for tomorrow than you were for today.” Wellmann paused again, “Well, I’m going to let you get your rest. I will see you in the morning.”
Even though it was still early in the evening, Flare fell fast asleep. So great was his exhaustion, that he slept through till the next morning.
He awoke early, fully rested, although a little sore from the previous days’ trials. He dressed quickly and went to get breakfast. He was surprised to see how many fewer students were at breakfast today than yesterday. He ate a small breakfast of fruits, cheese, and bread, and he realized that his appetite was much bigger than yesterday.
After he finished eating, he walked out into the early spring morning. The anxiety was not gone, but it had lessened tremendously.
There was some time before the tests were supposed to start, so he took his time getting to the assembling field. Some of the students were already gathering in small groups.
Flare spent the time stretching and warming up.
As the starting time approached, more and more of the students arrived. Once again, the students were assembled into formation, and then split into three groups.
A general addressed the assembled students, “Today’s’ tests are to see what types of soldiering skills you already possess. These skills are not quite as necessary as those that were tested yesterday, because these skills can be taught to you. However, do not think that these tests are not important, because each of you will be judged on how you handle yourself overall.” The general dismissed the students to their tests.
The first test for Flare’s group was horsemanship. The student’s ability to control a horse through an obstacle course was the main skill being tested. The course had traps, jumping hurdles, and low hanging obstacles that the rider and horse had to deal with. He performed well in his two times through the course, finishing about middle of the pack in the judges opinion. Flare was displeased in his finish, but satisfied that he passed.
The next area of testing was the weaponry. While several common weapons were tested, the two most critical weapons were the sword and the bow. In today’s testing, the judges easily outnumbered the students. In the weaponry tests, the amateur students fought expert instructors. This tended to keep injuries to a minimum, although from time to time injuries did occur.
Flare was easily the best in archery, but several humans were close. He hit the target every time, regardless of whether he was standing still or moving, or whether or not the target was moving.
In the sword test, he was extremely disappointed in his performance, but still he received a good score. The instructor quickly disarmed him, while managing to avoid the moves that Flare tried to use against him. Flare, like most of the students, performed poorly with the other weapons that were tested, such as the mace and the ax.
After the completion of the weaponry testing, the students were dismissed for lunch. Flare was thoroughly disgusted with his performance so far today and ate his meager lunch in silence, trying not to think about it. Af
ter eating, he headed to the competition field, and waited for the rest of the students to reappear.
To Flare’s surprise, the reading, writing, and recognition skills were tested next. He performed flawlessly, and made it to the next stage.
The next skill tested was unarmed combat. Here the students were pitted against each other in one to one tests of physical skill. The first match for Flare pitted him against a short and skinny human male. Flare had wrestled with elven youths as he grew up, and sergeant Wellmann had taught him as much as he could in the four weeks they had trained together. His opponent apparently had never wrestled with anybody, because Flare quickly got a grip on the young man’s arm and used the leverage to force the man to the ground. Once he had him on the ground, he shoved his knee into the man’s back until the judges declared him the winner.
Flare’s enthusiasm diminished when he saw his next opponent. He was simply huge, he was close to seven feet tall, and weighed in excess of two hundred and seventy pounds. He was not the typical Telurian citizen. In fact, he probably was a foreigner. He had long brown hair past his shoulders, was extremely tan, and wore clothes made of a coarse fabric.
They faced each other in the small circle where they would fight. The giant gave Flare a menacing stare, and waited for the judges.
“Start,” called the judge.
Flare had expected the giant to be slow because of his size, but was surprised by his speed. As soon as the fight started, the giant was in Flare’s face trying to end this fight quick.
Flare broke to his right trying to keep the huge man from getting a grip on him, but was tripped as he attempted to slide past the giant. He went down on one knee, and was tackled by his opponent. They rolled over, with Flare winding up on top. The giant was holding him by the right arm, while Flare was leaning over him. Resting on his left knee, Flare quickly found out that his adversary had no intention of letting him get up. He lashed a left handed punch, and landed the blow on the giant’s face.
The Guardians: Book One of the Restoration Series Page 9
