The giant simply smiled at him. “If that’s the hardest you can hit, you might as well quit now.”
Flare’s response was to bring his right knee up as hard as he could into the giant’s groin. He was pleased when a sharp look of pain appeared on the face of the giant.
“Is that better?” Flare shot back.
Using the momentary weakness of his opponent, Flare propelled himself backwards and away from the giant.
The giant rolled over and attempted to stand up. As he knelt there, attempting to stand, he lost track of Flare’s whereabouts, and was rewarded with a kick to his face. His nose exploded in a crimson gusher, but the man forced himself off of the ground to his feet.
Flare knew this was his chance, and tried to press his advantage. The giant who was now standing, roared a battle cry, and charged. Once again he attempted to escape to the right, but this time the giant was expecting it, and grabbed him and wrapped his long arms around him in a massive bear hug. Flare tried to slam his head into the face of the giant, but was unable to reach him. Starting to panic, and unable to breathe, he was starting to see yellow blotches. He kicked futility, and then remembered no more.
Flare woke up, with the judge leaning over him.
“Lie still, and catch your breath,” the judge said.
“I lost, does that mean I failed out of the guardians?” were the first words out of Flare’s mouth, as panic surged through him.
The judge grinned, “You lost, but against that monster I didn’t give you a chance anyway. You should be proud of how well you did.” The judge grinned in a friendly way, “Actually, since he underestimated you, your opponent’s score is lower than yours. Rest here as long as you like, I'm needed elsewhere.”
The judge left, leaving Flare to smile at losing and getting a good score. He leaned back in the shade. There was a cool breeze, and he reclined there with his hands placed behind his back. He closed his eyes and rested.
“You fight well,” said a voice from behind him.
Flare twisted on his back to see who had spoke, and was surprised to see the giant foreigner.
“Thanks,” Flare replied. “You fight pretty good yourself.”
The big man smiled. “I like you little man. What’s your name?”
“My name is Flaranthlas, but I prefer to be called Flare,” Flare said, standing.
They grasped hands as the giant said, “My name is Enton. The next time I fight, I want you fighting beside me, not against me.”
Flare took this as a compliment, and was rightfully flattered. The giant fighter soon left. A hopeful feeling spread through him. 'He accepted me as a fellow soldier,' Flare thought with amazement, 'Perhaps I can do this after all.'
He had lost track of time, and was surprised that it was already getting dark. After speaking to a judge, he found out that he had survived another day. He was so tired and sore, that he hardly even realized that he had passed all the physical tests and skill competitions.
Tomorrow was the last day of the competition. Tomorrow, Flare would go before a tribunal of nobles and officers, and would have to answer their questions. This was the last part of the test, and it was the last obstacle to him becoming a guardian.
Flare returned to his tent, undressed, and laid down on the bed, intending to take a quick nap before dinner. He was soon sound asleep.
When Flare woke up the next morning, he could barely get out of bed. His whole body ached, and was extremely stiff.
He spent a few minutes stretching, hoping that it would ease the soreness of his muscles, but he couldn’t tell if it did any good.
He got dressed slowly, and straightened up his tent.
Leaving his room, he meandered slowly in the early morning coolness. Flare’s stomach started growling, since he had not eaten any dinner the night before.
After a quick breakfast of fruits, cheese, and bread, Flare strolled to the assembling field. He waited patiently as the remaining students began to gather. He was surprised by how few students were still left.
“Good Morning, Flare,” came a familiar voice from behind Flare.
Flare turned as sergeant Wellmann approached. “Good morning,” He said with a huge grin on his face. “Only one more day to go.”
“Don't forget about today’s test. You must pass this review, or you fail. You have done wonderfully, but do not get overconfident.”
“But sergeant, this review is a measure of the student’s character; I shouldn’t have a problem with it.”
“I hope you’re right, but they will try to trick you and catch you in your words. Just remember to take your time, and be honest. In the short time that I have known you, I have come to respect you as a person. You should do fine.”
“Sergeant, how many people are on the tribunal?” Flare asked.
“By tradition, there are seven members, and they each get to vote on whether or not the student becomes a guardian. Four of the seven members have to vote you in.”
Shortly thereafter, the students were assembled, and the last test was explained to them. There were over a hundred different tribunal review boards, so they expected to review all the students by sundown.
Flare’s group was taken to a small temporary building that had been hastily put together underneath an oak tree.
Once there, they were assigned a number which represented the order in which they would be interviewed. Flare was disappointed to see that he had been given a number that was next to last. Make it or not, he simply wished to get it over with.
His anxiety began to grow, as the first students entered the building. The first student to be interviewed was a young woman. She went into the building, and remained in there for almost half an hour. She emerged in tears.
The review process moved slowly. By lunch, only a third of the students had been in to see the tribunal.
The day seemed to last forever, as Flare awaited his turn to enter. This morning he had thought that this test was a simple one, but the longer it took to get it over with, the more his impatience mounted.
It was approaching sundown, when finally, it was his turn to be allowed before the tribunal. He entered the makeshift building, and found himself in a small waiting room. He waited for several minutes before being ushered into the tribunal room. It was much darker than the waiting room, and he waited several moments for his eyes to adjust to the darker interior.
As his eyes adjusted, he noticed seven men sitting around a table. Three of the men appeared to be wearing military uniforms, and the other four were nobles.
“Welcome petitioner, state your name.”
Flare could not tell which person had spoken, but he answered quickly, “My name is Flaranthlas.”
“Ah yes. The elven prince who would become a guardian.” This time he did see who had spoken; it was a dark haired man who was sitting second from the left. It was Duke Angaria. His anxiety increased dramatically, the Duke had interrupted the king in order to object to Flare's presence. Now, instead of needing four of seven votes to get into the guardians, he needed four of the other six members to vote in his favor.
The Duke continued speaking, “Why should we allow you into the guardians? Why should we train our enemies to fight? If we train our enemies, will they not use our own tactics to defeat us?”
Flare felt his face flush. “I am not your enemy, neither are the elves. You seem to forget that my father is, or was a member of the human delegation to the elven court. Chances are that I am the son of a human noble. Is the fact that I was raised in a foreign land enough of a reason to disown me?”
“You are a poison, and to allow you to contaminate the guardians would be an absolute disaster. I will ...”
The Duke was interrupted by the man who was sitting directly in the middle. “Duke Angaria, please follow the format of the tribunal. Personal attacks and political opinions are not to affect our purpose. We must treat each applicant fairly.”
A calmer Duke Angaria replied, “Of course, General. I wi
ll be fair, of course, in my decision.”
Flare doubted this, but he also saw in it a way to turn the tribunal in his favor. If he could bait the Duke into another outburst, perhaps he could turn the other members against Angaria. He clung to a glimmer of hope.
The general, who had previously spoken, continued, “Flaranthlas, each member of this tribunal will ask you a single question. After all seven questions have been answered, we will vote on whether or not to allow you into the guardians. We will ask questions in order from your right to your left. Do you have any questions before we begin?”
“No, General.” Flare replied, calmly.
The officer to the far right asked the first question. He was a middle aged man whose black hair had not yet started showing any gray. His nose had been broken in a fight, and he had sharp penetrating eyes that seemed to bore right through you. Although he was an officer, he had the appearance of nobility as well. He asked what seemed like a fairly routine question. “Flaranthlas, would you die in defense of Telur?”
Flare paused to consider how best to word his response to the question. “Sir, I have no desire to die, and I have no desire to take the life of another. But in joining the guardians, I will probably have to kill. And if I am called upon to give my life in defense of Telur, I will make that sacrifice. And in doing so, I hope that my death will be worthy of both my elven ancestors, and of the guardian tradition.” Flare smiled, “Although, I must say that I hope it doesn't come to that.” The officer looked down toward the table and smiled at Flare's words as he made some notes on a piece of paper on the table.
‘That might be one of the four I need,’ Flare thought to himself, hope starting to rise up against the fear in his stomach.
The next person to ask a question was a young blond nobleman. The man had sharp features and pale skin. His clothes were fancy, and his hands had never seen the first little bit of work. “Tell me young prince, would you be willing to fight the elves for Telur? Would you be willing to kill the very elves that you grew up with?”
This question bothered Flare, as he had tried not to contemplate it. “Sir, I do not know how to answer that question. I hope that I am never confronted with that problem, but if I was placed in a position where I could not perform my duties, then I would resign my place in the guardians. I would not let my inability to perform my duty affect the guardians.”
Flare thought it was a good answer, and he observed approval in several of the men at the table. However, the noble who had asked the question was not satisfied.
“So Flaranthlas, your answer is no. You would not defend Telur against the elves?”
Flare realized that this vote was lost before he had entered the room, so he answered as calmly as he could, “I do not know what I would do in that situation. And I hope that I never have to face it.”
The next question came from a young man, who was sitting third from Flare’s right. He appeared to be a cleric or priest of a religious order and wore a plain brown robe. He had long black hair and a close cut beard. “Petitioner, describe to me how you would handle the following situation. Let us for a moment; imagine that you are a soldier in the Telurian army. Let’s say that your commanding officer orders you to slaughter all the men and animals of a small village, and he decides to use the women for the men’s pleasure. What would you do?”
“Sir, I believe that all life is sacred, and I would never partake in slaughtering defenseless farmers. I understand that in a war, the resources of the enemy must be destroyed. I could partake in the destruction of the enemies’ food supply, and basically starve the enemy into surrendering. I could kill the enemy, but I do not believe in the slaughter of innocents, and I never would allow women to be abused in the way you were suggesting.”
Flare noted approval from several of the questioners.
The next question came from the general who was sitting directly in the middle of the table. He was an older man with short gray hair. “Flaranthlas, you have been raised a member of the elven royalty. Do you believe that you can be an effective soldier, while surrounded by commoners? And furthermore, can you do all the menial tasks that are required of soldiers?”
Flare answered the general's questions slowly, “Sir, I can only do the best that I can do. I understand that I will have to do things that nobody wants to do, and I will do them the best I can. I do not know how else I can answer that question.”
The general responded, “Sometimes, only time can answer a question, and sometimes the answer that you give is not as important as how you give it.”
The general’s response confused him. He couldn’t determine if the general was a favorable vote, or an unfavorable vote.
There were three questions left for Flare to answer. Out of the first four, he believed that he had two favorable votes, one unfavorable, and one unknown. Of the three questions left, Duke Angaria was an unfavorable vote. That meant of the other two members, he couldn’t afford more than one negative vote. He shifted on his feet as he waited for the next question.
The next question came from a nobleman who was sitting to the left of the general. He was an old man with thin white hair and blotchy skin that hung loosely on his face.
“It seems to me, that your loyalties shift rather easily. First you say that you will not fight elves, and then you say you will. It appears to me that you answer the question whatever way you think the tribunal wants you to.”
“Sir, I have each question honestly,” Flare answered. “If the elves attack, then I will defend myself, my comrades, and the city of Telur. But I will not participate in an attack on the eternal city. And if I was willing to help in an attack against my former home, why would you want me in your army?”
The nobleman responded, “I do not believe that any individual should be allowed into the guardians, if that individual has a loyalty concern. You are not fit to be in the guardians.”
Flare heart sank at these words. If the general voted negatively, then he had already lost.
Duke Angaria was next. “I have no question for this applicant. He is a poison, and the mere thought of letting him into the guardians makes me ill.” As he spoke, Angaria folded his arms across his chest and sat back into the chair.
Flare was actually pleased. At least the Duke couldn’t try to catch him in his words.
The last question came from the military officer all the way to Flare’s left. He was a young man with an intense gaze, he appeared new to being an officer. “Tell me Flare, Do you think that you will receive a fair judgment from this tribunal?”
“Sir, I don’t understand the point of the question.”
“It’s very simple. Do you think this tribunal will treat you fairly in its decision?”
“I believe that most members of this tribunal will judge me based on the answers that I have given, but I also think that some members came into this meeting with their votes already decided. But may I ask what was the reason for this question?”
“I wanted to see if your answers to the other questions were truthful, and a lot of applicants would have been too intimidated to have answered the way you just did. By answering honestly, I now have faith in your previous answers.”
'He may be young, but he's sharp.' Flare thought.
The general in the middle, said, “Prince Flaranthlas, Please wait outside while we discuss your petition.”
Flare stepped outside, and paced nervously. The time went by slowly, even though He knew it had only been several minutes. Finally he was summoned back into the tribunal room.
The first thing he noticed when he reentered the room, was the absence of Duke Angaria, and the other two noblemen who had been against him. They had apparently left via an unseen door, leaving only the three military men, and the cleric. He was exceedingly relieved by their absence. He hoped that this signified a positive vote for him.
The general spoke, “Congratulations, Flaranthlas, you have passed the tribunal’s review. You are now a member of the guardians.” He p
aused, “Are you prepared to accept this commission, and act only in the best interests of Telur?”
Flare choked out an ecstatic affirmative answer, the room swirling in front of him.
The general then continued speaking, “Please send in the last petitioner.”
Flare left in a daze. Remembering little as he left, he hardly even answered as the last applicant offered congratulations. He walked slowly toward his tent, chills running up and down his spine.
Chapter 7
Guardian training was simply grueling. The first year consisted of improving the physical condition of the guardian cadets, as well as instructing them in the art of war. The training was conducted several miles to the west of the capital city of Telur. The terrain was much rougher, and therefore more conducive to improving their physical conditioning.
The fighters had a much tougher training regime than the magi. The fighters started before the sun came up, enduring several hours of intense physical exercise. After a short break, the students were broken into small groups for instruction. They were instructed in fundamental military tactics, with historical battles used as examples. Flare found these sessions captivating, as the intricacies of military battles were demonstrated to the students. More than once he wondered whether or not he could ever grasp all the complexities that were thrust on the commanding officer. These instructional sessions lasted until an hour before lunch.
The hour immediately before lunch was used to practice the individual skills that each fighter must have to be a successful soldier. Sword fighting, archery, unarmed fighting, and horse handling were practiced, rather extensively, on different days. The use of other weapons were also taught, but not with the intensity of the sword. Flare was excellent at archery and soon rode a horse like a seasoned soldier. He joined the guardians as a mediocre swordsman, but with his agility and speed, he was always improving. He quickly picked up the moves and tricks that the instructors demonstrated. Most of the other students had received more weapons training growing up, so they were better initially. But since Flare had more to learn, he improved faster.
The Guardians: Book One of the Restoration Series Page 10
