“See that it doesn’t happen again.” The Abbot said softly, a dangerous edge in his voice.
“Yes, well,” Auna flustered, “we will now have the last presentation of an initiate, Vincent Alexander.” Auna returned to his seat to catch his breath.
Vincent took a deep calming breath before striding forward. As he took his place, the same familiar energy flowed through his body gathering in his hands which took on a red aura. He closed his eyes. The flames of the twelve torches around the field glowed through the darkness, in his mind. It was an awe inspiring sensation. He could tell exactly how far apart each flame was, as though he were looking at them with his natural eye. He grabbed hold of the lights with his token and guided them with his hands until they all formed one giant ball of flame above his head.
He opened his eyes as the ball started to grow. The ball expanded to the size of a full grown man. Heat radiated from it, hitting the crowd in waves; but it was nothing compared to the heat that radiated from the balls of flame Master Auna and the man in black had made.
Vincent trembled as he looked at the vast crowd that was assembled. This was foolish, why had he tried to do something this complicated? If it went wrong he would surely be killed. His eyes paused on Master Auna, who was smiling encouragingly. Vincent’s worries seemed to disappear and he smiled as he dropped his raised hands to his side. The ball, now the size of a very large cow, dropped from the sky, hitting Vincent and exploding into a roaring pillar that shot into the air. Several terrified cries rang from those in attendance.
When the flames died down, Vincent stood wreathed in flames in the perfect suit of armour created by his token. He sent the flames back to the torches and returned to his seat. Excitement gripped Vincent as he sat. He had actually done it.
There was an awed silence that lasted several minutes until Abbot Markov rose slowly to his feet and started clapping his hands. The crowd soon followed until there was a thunderous roar.
“What a wondrous display of power,” The Abbot exclaimed after the cheering had subsided. “The Goddess has truly smiled upon all of you. Continue developing your tokens and you will all become able tools in the hands of Sandora.” He smiled encouragingly at the initiates. “Now, with the technicalities taken care of, let the tournament begin.” The crowd erupted once again in excited cheers.
The years seemed to melt off of Grand Abbot Markov as he addressed the crowd of spectators. “The Tournament will consist of four events. The winner of the most events will be named champion. In the event of a tie, an additional event will be held.” Abbot Markov paused a moment before continuing. “Knights of Sandora must be skilled in all aspects of combat. For that reason all knights are taught to use diverse weapons and are trained in various tactics of warfare. Therefore all areas of combat will be tested this evening. The first event will test the archery skills of the initiates.” Thomas moaned audibly. Vincent, on the other hand, couldn’t believe his luck. Of all the skills they could have chosen, it was one in which he was an expert.
With a nod from the Abbot, ten circular targets were brought onto the field. Master Auna returned to the field as the Abbot sat once again. Auna indicated for Vincent and the others to take their places in front of the targets. Bows and arrows were distributed as Master Auna addressed them
“The rules are simple. If you miss a target, you are eliminated. Hitting your target will advance you to the next round. Each round will consist of a greater distance from the target. Do you all understand?” The initiates nodded their understanding. “Very well, the first round will be from ten imperial paces. Go.”
The eager line of contestants measured out the distance and readied their bows to shoot. Auna took a place safely behind the line of archers.
“Ready...” he called, “release!” There was a whistle as ten arrows left their bowstrings, sailing toward the waiting targets, followed by eight sharp thuds.
Vincent’s arrow stood quivering in his target. He heaved a sigh of relief. Thomas, on the other hand, was not nearly as skilled with the bow. His arrow had sailed over his target, just barely missing it, and was buried in a tree on the edge of the clearing, thus eliminating him.
The remaining contestants measured out another ten paces. They took their places and released on Auna’s command. All eight arrows found their mark.
“The distance will be doubled this round,” Auna instructed and the contestants turned and measured the distance. They now stood forty paces away from the targets
This round saw four contestants eliminated. Only Kai, Albert, Thayne and Vincent remained. Once again the distance was doubled. The archers lined up and awaited the call from Master Auna.
“Release!”
The arrows cut through the air. Vincent closed his eyes, not wanting to watch. A single thud echoed across the field. Hesitantly, Vincent opened his eyes. There, stuck in the lowest ring of his target, was an arrow. Two other arrows had fallen short, while Kai had not even been able to shoot as he had pulled his bow so far back that it had snapped in half.
Vincent breathed deeply. He felt a hand on his wrist and looked to see Master Auna raising his arm into the air.
“The first event goes to Sir Alexander.” Auna declared. A smile crept across Vincent’s face. The crowd cheered as he modestly returned to his place with the other initiates. The targets were removed from the field.
Abbot Markov rose once again; the crowd quieted to listen as he announced the next event.
“Well done, all of you,” he said. “The next event will test your skills in hand to hand combat. You have all trained extensively with your chosen weapons and you have all gained affinity with that weapon. However, there are times when the convenience of your favorite weapon will not be available to you and you will have to make do with what you have at hand. An ancient form of unarmed combat known as Giocapugni is commonly taught to the young people of Pallà, and the knights of the academy are no exception; in fact, we hold them to a higher standard, expecting them to be able to adapt the techniques taught to any weapon. Using these techniques, a simple herding staff can be as effective a weapon as a sword or mace.” The Abbot nodded once again and a crate of quarter staves were brought out onto the field. “You may recognize these from the early days of your training,” The Abbot said, addressing the initiates. “The basics of combat were taught to you using these very staves.”
Vincent was thrilled. Not just one, but two of the events were skills in which he could best most of the others. His confidence was soaring.
The Abbot sat down once again. Master Auna took over.
“You are each to select a staff that you feel suits you. The event is simply a sparring match,” He explained. “You will fight one on one until one of you yields, or is unable to continue; any questions?”
They all nodded their heads. Auna started to pair off the initiates. Vincent was paired with Peter. The two went to the crate to select their staves before the event began. Vincent selected one that was slightly shorter than him and was as thick as his wrist.
The various groups spaced themselves out around the field and waited for the signal to start.
“Begin,” Auna shouted at a nod from the abbot.
Peter immediately ran at Vincent, holding his staff like a club. He had chosen one that was short and thick, so he was able to wield it effectively as he waved it wildly. Peter shouted just as wildly as he charged.
Vincent gripped his staff tightly, holding it with his hands close to the ends, as he had been taught many years ago. He parried the blows away, but the sheer force of the blows pushed him back. Vincent wasn’t a small man, but Peter was considerably larger and stronger.
Vincent cleared his mind, focusing solely on the confrontation at hand. Slowly the parries became more fluid and the tide of the fight started to turn until Vincent was on the offensive, with Peter struggling to defend. The movements came naturally, despite not having used this particular weapon in several months.
He sent a sudd
en jab to Peter’s stomach, which doubled him over, followed by a sharp blow to the head; sending him crashing to the ground. Peter lay motionless on the ground for some time before groggily pulling himself to his feet.
They surveyed the field. The other groups had already finished. Kai, Jan and Thomas remained. Thayne and Mark had managed to knock each other out simultaneously, thus eliminating them both.
The injured were helped off the field to where a group of priestesses who held the token of healing awaited to help them. The remaining contestants were paired off again. Vincent was paired with Jan. This time Vincent had the size advantage.
At the command from Master Auna, Jan started clumsily swinging his staff at Vincent. He was nowhere near as skilled as Peter and Vincent dodged the swings easily as the staff hit nothing but air. Jan was getting frustrated as Vincent continued to dance around him effortlessly and his swings became wider and wider.
Vincent quickly ducked under one of Jan’s swings, coming up beside him. Vincent swung his staff, hitting Jan squarely in the back of the head. He crumpled to the ground.
The other fight was still in progress. Thomas was paired against Kai, and was doing well despite the huge difference in size and strength. Kai was being pushed back. In an act of desperation Kai swung at Thomas’s knees and, by a stroke of luck, connected. Thomas winced for a moment and dropped his defense. Kai took advantage of the situation and sent a chopping blow down on top of Thomas’s head.
The round was over. The only remaining contestants were Vincent and Kai. The thought occurred to Vincent that all he had to do was win this round and he’d have won the tournament; or at very least tied.
The next round started quickly. Kai charged waving his staff with all his might. Vincent scrambled to defend. Every blow sent a numbing shock down his arms. Kai was huge and strong. A deep respect for Thomas grew in him as he marveled as to how Thomas had gotten Kai on the run.
Kai drove his staff downward in a chopping swing aimed at Vincent’s head. He raised his staff to defend. The staves collided with a thunderous crack as Vincent’s staff snapped in half like a twig. Kai’s staff continued downward, crashing hard onto Vincent’s head.
Chapter 3: The Final Challenge
Vincent slowly opened his eyes. His head throbbed. Where was he? The stars above him seemed to spin through a strange orange haze. Why was he laying on the ground? None of it made sense to him.
The memory of the last event slowly returned. Groggily, he looked around taking in his surroundings. He was lying at the side of the field. The orange haze was emanating from an old priestess who was kneeling over him. Her silvery hair and care-worn face had a familiarity about them that eventually clawed its way through the swirling mist in his head. It was Eliza.
“Welcome back,” Eliza said, sounding relived. Vincent’s headache had faded and his head finally felt clear again. The orange glow surrounding him faded. Vincent sat up. “That was quite the hit you took. That Kai is one strong man,” she said admiringly. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
“How long was I out?” Vincent asked.
“About two and a half hours,” Eliza responded. “They went ahead without you. They couldn’t wait, especially since we weren’t completely sure you were going to make it out of this at all for a while there.”
“What?” Vincent exclaimed incredulously as he tried to scramble to his feet. “I need to be in those events to even have a chance at winning.”
“Slow down,” Eliza eased Vincent back to the ground. She was a lot stronger than Vincent had expected for such an old lady. “Take your time; the other events are already over.”
Vincent’s heart sank as he allowed himself to be pushed back to a seated position.
“Who won?” He asked half-heartedly.
“No one yet,” Eliza smiled. Vincent looked at her, confused. “There was a four way tie.”
“Have they announced the next event?”
“Not yet. It would seem that the abbots are having trouble deciding,” Eliza pointed a short distance away to where the abbots were huddled, obviously deep in discussion. Master Auna and the man in black were there as well. “They have been discussing for nearly twenty minutes.”
“So... who else won?” Vincent asked curiously.
“Well, Kai obviously won the second event,” Eliza explained, “Peter won the third and Thomas won the fourth.”
“And the events were?” Vincent asked, but before Eliza could answer the abbots had returned to their seats.
“You had better go,” Eliza urged, “They’ll be starting soon.” Vincent got up quickly.
“I appreciate your help, as always. Thank you,” he said before returning to the field to where the three other initiates stood.
“Vincent!” Thomas exclaimed, sounding relieved. “Thank Sandora you’re alright. They told us you might not make it. ”
“It’ll take more than a stick to the head to kill me,” Vincent said jokingly, “even if it is swung by a monster like Kai.” Vincent patted Kai’s arm, as he couldn’t reach his shoulder, and winked at him.
Abbot Markov’s voice called the attention of the four initiates.
“We can now begin the final challenge.” Abbot Markov addressed the crowd. “We congratulate all those who participated tonight, but especially you four, you all exceeded our expectations. However, tradition demands that a champion be named. Also, we must ensure that the eventual winner is capable of enduring the special placement. Therefore, the final challenge has been selected to ensure that only the best of you will remain. You will be pushed to the very limits of your mind, body, and spirit. The difficulty is such, that it would not be surprising if none of you succeeded in completing it.”
The excitement was starting to fade from Vincent, replaced by a strange foreboding. He had been lucky with the first two events being skills that he had confidence in. There was no way he would be that lucky with this event. He glanced down the line to see how the others were reacting. Their uneasiness was painted on their faces. Vincent firmed his stance, determined to win.
“There is one other warning I must give,” The Abbot continued. “The nature of this challenge is such that failure to complete it may result in death.” An astonished whisper shot through the crowd. “For this reason, we will give each of you the opportunity to withdraw now. If you choose to continue, there will be no turning back.” The murmur of the crowd increased, as did the foreboding that Vincent felt. “Those of you who wish to continue will please step forward.”
The words rang through Vincent’s head. Fear gripped him as it never had before, freezing his feet in place as he tried to step forward. His mind started to whirl with all the reasons to just give up. Vincent shook his head, shaking the thoughts from his mind, and gritted his teeth. Exerting all of his will power, he forced himself forward. His feet slowly shifted as he moved forward.
“Very well,” Abbot Markov said quietly, “if this is the path you have chosen to follow, then so be it. May the Goddess watch over the three of you. I commend you for your wisdom Kai.”
Vincent looked down the line in shock; only Kai had not stepped forward.
“The remaining three will advance to the final round; Kai, you may be seated.” The Abbot waited as Kai took his seat before continuing. “Due to the nature of the event you will each be required to compete individually. So, to be fair, the details will not be explained until it is your turn to compete. Thomas, you will be first, Peter and Vincent, you shall wait in the academy hall until you are called.”
At a wave of Abbot Markov’s hand, one of the Valkyrie standing behind the abbots marched up to Vincent and Peter.
“You will come with me,” she said bluntly from behind the lowered visor of her winged helmet. She had a light, musical voice that stood in stark contrast to the heavy plate-mail worn by all Valkyrie.
She turned and marched off toward the entrance of the academy. Peter and Vincent followed. She stopped at the door, opened it and pointed down t
he stairs without saying a word. They obediently walked through the door and down the stairs. The Valkyrie remained outside and closed the door behind them.
The academy was lit by the same orbs which lit the abbey. The narrow stairs ended at a large but plain wooden door. Vincent walked through first, entering the vast room that was the academy hall. In ages past, the room had held three hundred students at different stages in their training; as masters demonstrated fighting techniques and explained war tactics. Now, however, the academy had fewer than fifty students. The storage rooms attached to the main hall were filled with equipment that went unused.
Vincent drew his swords and started practicing the forms he had performed many times. The blades flowed smoothly from one form to another. He had come a long way from where he was only a year earlier. Thomas had always been a natural with any weapon he touched; it always seemed that he had used them for years, even with the most obscure weapon. Vincent had not been so fortunate. Hours of practice had changed that. He now stood as one of the more proficient weapon masters in the academy.
“What do you think the event is?” Peter asked, pulling Vincent from his trance.
“I really don’t know,” Vincent said thinking. “Abbot Markov said it would test our mind, body and spirit. It will probably be some type of combat, as that’s the primary calling of knights, to be warriors, but beyond that I really couldn’t say.” In reality, he just didn’t want to think about what it could be. The flow of the blades was all that was keeping him from breaking down under the pressure.
An ear-splitting boom echoed through the hall, startling Vincent and putting a stop to his training once again. Both Peter and Vincent stood listening silently, trying to discern what had happened outside.
The sound of someone pounding their way down the stairs broke the silence after what seemed like an eternity. The door slammed open. The Valkyrie who had escorted them stood in the doorway.
“Peter shall compete next.” She said in a very cold, emotionless way. “Follow me.”
The Ranger (Book 1) Page 4
