by N E Riggs
Conal said, “All Sword Priests of the traditional division are expected to know how to use an agitator and fight barehanded. If you can’t do that, you won’t be accepted. Most have weapons other than that too, old-fashioned weapons. But Scatha isn’t an expert in every weapon, so other Sword Priests will come in to help us out.” He grinned. “I use a sword.”
David nodded. He remembered seeing Conal’s sword earlier. Conal didn’t have it with him now. He’d probably left it in his room, as David had with Bramira. “You had a sword too, didn’t you?” he asked Anur.
“I can also use a bow,” Anur said proudly. “I used to spend a lot of time hunting.”
“I am a master with the lance,” Bellon said. “I can also use a sword, a bow, and a mace.”
Conal rolled his eyes. “Well aren’t you wonderful,” he said. Bellon glowered, and Conal scowled right back. “We get it, you know? You’ve been practicing all your life and you’re way better than the rest of us. You don’t have to keep rubbing it in our faces.”
Bellon scowled but didn’t say anything.
Turning to Niam, Conal asked, “And what about you?”
Niam flushed a bit. “I really only know how to fight bare-handed. I’ve used guns though, so the agitator was pretty easy.”
“Don’t say it like that,” Conal said. “You’re the fastest one here, and you fight just fine. And it’s not like you need to know other weapons anyway.”
“Thanks,” Niam said, blushing harder. Conal grinned at her.
They cleaned up dinner as a group. The machine beside the cooker was a dish washer that took maybe five seconds total. They had the rest of the evening free to organize their rooms. David put his clothes away in the closet, then flopped down on the narrow bed. He didn’t have much to put away.
He stared at the ceiling for a long time. His body ached, but pleasantly. He should probably be feeling more of a strain, but wasn’t. He wondered if that was the gift already at work. Either way, he felt satisfied. He liked physical activity, and he liked being challenged. The readings during dinner he could space out. He hoped he’d made the right decision in becoming a Sword Priest. He told himself that, even if he didn’t make it, he was glad he’d tried.
Eventually, he sighed and looked at the two books that lay on his desk. He’d not yet looked at The Tome of Ages. The size of it intimidated him. And he still wasn’t finished reading The Guide.
He sat up on the bed and flipped to where he’d left off in The Guide. If he was expected to represent Bantong and Sword Priests, as the others had said, then he supposed he should know more about it. He was on the section that spoke of the different regions of Bantong. As he read, he tried to remember where his fellow trainees were from. He could only remember Bellon, who was from Valal, where the Sword Priests lived. One or both of Bellon’s parents were probably Sword Priests, hence why he was so much better than everyone else.
David reminded himself to ask the others where they were from in the morning and went back to reading.
8
The Burning Vision
“Faster!” Scatha barked. “You’ll get killed like that fighting monsters!”
David groaned and forced his body to move faster. He hated the obstacle course. It wouldn’t be so bad if it stayed the same from day to day, but Scatha (or possibly another Sword Priest) would change it around all the time.
He jumped from one small stepping stone to another. He even managed to duck the log that came flying at him from the left. He hopped to the next stepping stone, exactly at the same time as another log came swooping in. The log hit him in the side, knocking him off the stone and into the mud.
Groaning, he sat up, spitting mud. He’d like, just once, to be able to get through the obstacle course without getting covered in mud. Scrambling to his feet, he pressed a hand against his side as he jumped to the next stepping stone. He made it to the climbing wall without getting hit or falling again, but he was so muddy he couldn’t get a good grip on the slippery wall.
After sliding down the wall four time, he heard Scatha call out, “Come back!” With a sigh, half of defeat and half of relief, David walked around the wall and joined the other trainees. They’d managed to get through the entire course, naturally. At least Niam was also covered in mud. “Go wash up,” Scatha said, eying Niam and David. “And be quick about it. Specialty training starts in fifteen minutes.”
Niam all but ran for the showers. David walked at a slower pace. This was the third time they’d have practice for the specialized weapons, and he’d been excused from the practices so far. Scatha hadn’t found anyone who could train him to use a chakram. Which didn’t mean he got the time to lounge about. He was so much worse than everyone else that he used the time to try and catch up on his other skills.
“Kemp!” Scatha hollered.
David jumped and whirled around. “Ma’am?”
Scatha crossed her arms over her ample chest. “We finally found someone who can help you with your chakram. So hurry!”
“Yes, ma’am,” David said and ran to the showers as quick as he could. He shouldn’t be disappointed. Much as he needed the extra time to practice other skills, he wanted to learn how to better use Bramira. He should be relieved.
He showered quickly, changed into a clean uniform, grabbed Bramira out of his room, and returned to the practice room. “Right on time,” Anur said, grinning. David grinned back.
Bellon made a choked noise. “What is that?” he asked, staring.
David realized he was looking at Bramira. “It’s a chakram,” he said.
“I know what a chakram is,” Bellon snarled, hands fisted at his sides, “and that’s no normal chakram. What is it?”
“Um...” David said. The other acolytes were looking at him, and so was Scatha. “It’s called Bramira. My Lost Priest said—”
“Bramira,” Conal cut him off, his eyes wide. His voice held a reverent tone. “Is that really Bramira?”
David shrugged. “Yeah.” So Cethon had said, and if anyone should have known, it was Cethon.
“Isn’t Bramira supposed to be on another world?” Anur asked. David shrugged.
“How did you get it?” Niam asked.
“Ah, it was given to me,” David said. He hoped not to have to say anything else, but, looking at their expressions, he knew he’d have to go into more detail. “By, um, Cethon Jing, the previous Sword Cardinal.”
Conal whistled. Anur stared, jaw hanging open. Niam muttered something beneath her breath, too soft for David to hear. Scatha stared at David as if seeing him for the first time. Bellon said, “Why would Cardinal Jing give Bramira to the likes of you?”
David crossed his arms over his chest. “She said it belonged to me.”
“Does it glow for you?” Conal asked. “Does it fly as you wish it to?”
“Um, yeah,” David said. He really wished this conversation could end. “I’m useless with other chakrams. I tried, and I couldn’t hit anything. But I’m pretty good with Bramira.”
The door to the practice room opened, the weapons specialists entering. David let out a breath as he was no longer the center of attention. But the other acolytes all took at least one look back at him before going off with their weapon specialists. They were going to be asking him for more details later, David just knew it.
Then he was alone with Scatha and a man he’d not seen before. The man had dark skin and hair, a bushy beard, wore a uniform edged in black, and was coated in chakrams. Dozens of chakrams circled both his arms. He wore a turban around which sat other, larger chakrams. “Kemp, this is Vicar Cumon Caran. He’ll be teaching you more about how to use your chakram.” Scatha paused, pursing her lips. “How to use Bramira,” she corrected herself softly, staring at it.
Cumon glanced sharply at Scatha, then he too stared at Bramira. “It is Bramira,” he whispered to himself. “Never did I think I would see it for myself...” He stood up straighter, scowling. “Kemp, was it? Well, it’s time to practice. Com
e.”
“Yes, sir,” David said, trotting after Cumon. Vicar, he thought to himself. During protocol, he had to memorize the ranks of priests. Scatha was a Vicar too. Vicars trained acolytes but were also more skilled than regular brothers or sisters. In the Sword Sect, that meant the Vicars were the best warriors. Like regular priests, Vicars wore brown uniforms, but the collar and cuffs were black. Above Vicar was Steward, whose uniforms were edged in white. For Sword Priests, Stewards led the individual units. They often weren’t as skilled as Vicars, but they were skilled in strategy and leadership. Above Stewards were Bishops, who apparently did most of the admin, keep the different divisions organized, and dressed all in black. There were two hundred forty Sword Bishops at the moment, and they assigned the units to different areas of Bantong and other worlds. Apan Gak was a Bishop, in charge of taking vows from new acolytes. Above the Bishops were the Cardinals, who wore white, like the High Priestess and Aeons himself. Each priest sect had just one Cardinal, and regular priests couldn’t expect to ever meet their Cardinal. Which was why David’s fellow acolytes had been equally surprised that he’d met Cethon as they were over his possession of Bramira.
Cumon led him to a side room that was set up similar to the one David had trained in before making Sword Priest, with targets hanging from the ceiling. “Show me what you can do,” Cumon said, heading into the control room.
David stepped into the center of the room, unclipping Bramira from his belt. He took a deep breath, waiting for Cumon to start the targets. He was calm and confident. He sucked at everything else, but he’d learned to use Bramira. Cumon would see that there was at least one thing he was good at.
The targets began to move. David grinned and sprang into action. Something like this wasn’t a challenge for him anymore. He moved quickly and smoothly, Bramira flying about the room, slicing through everything in its path. His movements had improved in the short time since his test, as he’d been using his body more than ever the last few days.
In less than two minutes, David had sheared through every target in the room. He stood proudly in the center and turned to the control booth, hoping he’d impressed Cumon. Cumon stepped out, staring thoughtfully at David, and his heart sank. He’d been a disappointment. Again.
“May I see Bramira?” Cumon asked, holding out his hand.
“Of course, sir,” David said, handing it over. The glow dimmed in Cumon’s hand, and Cumon frowned. He ran a finger carefully along the edge, studying it. He continued doing so for over a minute. Finally, David said, “Is something the matter, sir?”
Cumon handed Bramira back. “I may not be able to help you much,” he said. “This is like no other chakram in the world. It doesn’t act like a chakram.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
Cumon pulled one of the chakrams from his turban. It was about the same size as Bramira. He tossed it with a casual, underhanded motion. The chakram spun, striking one of the targets on the ground. It bounced a bit after, going left. “Chakrams aren’t boomerangs,” he said. “They may bounce some, but they don’t come back. That’s why I have so many. But with Bramira, you don’t need to have other weapons.”
David stared silently at where Cumon’s chakram lay on the ground. He’d been pretty sure chakrams were supposed to bounce all over the place and then even come back. Maybe Xena wasn’t the best reference for how actual chakrams worked.
“That doesn’t mean I can’t help you,” Cumon said, staring thoughtfully at Bramira. “I can show you better ways to throw it, giving you more versatility. But I think the best thing to do will be to teach you to use another weapon while using Bramira. How are you with an agitator?”
“Um, I’m okay, sir,” David said. After practicing with it for the past few days, he’d gotten to the point where he could consistently hit the target, although not always the center.
Cumon nodded. “Since you have only one chakram, you’re vulnerable while Bramira isn’t in your hand. You’re pretty good at dodging about, but I think you should learn to use Bramira and your agitator simultaneously. And, since you use Bramira with your right hand, you’ll have to practice using your agitator left-handed.”
“Yes, sir,” David said. Privately, he doubted he’d manage that any time soon, but it sounded like a cool idea. He could at least practice shooting left-handed.
“First, since you don’t have your agitator with you right now—” Cumon scowled. David winced a bit, even though Scatha only let the acolytes carry their agitators when they were practicing shooting. “Let me show you different ways to throw a chakram.”
For the next two hours, they practiced. David had been throwing Bramira like a Frisbee, flinging it across his body, towards his right. Cumon showed him many other possibilities: throwing it from the side, underhanded, overhanded, backhanded, and even after twirling it above his head with one finger. More amazing, David was actually good at it. He couldn’t manage the finger twirl throw, but he learned all the others in only two hours.
When they were finished, Cumon nodded approvingly. “Practice what we went over today. I’ll see you again in a few days.”
“Yes, sir,” David said happily, clutching Bramira to his chest. Finally, something he was good at. And a teacher who wasn’t disappointed with him. Cumon gave him a faint smile and saw himself out. David stayed for a while in the little room, basking in the glow of satisfaction. Then he shook himself. If he didn’t hurry, he’d be late for dinner.
He dropped Bramira off in his room, hoping the others might have forgotten about it, and reached the table before Scatha. The other acolytes looked like they wanted to grill him, but Scatha arrived. Her hand shook as she poked at her com pad. She read,
To Shia, Aeons gave the weapon called Bramira.
David nearly choked on his salad. He stared at Scatha, paying attention to her reading for the first time.
High Priest Quetzal protested, saying, “He is a criminal. Surely there is one more deserving of such a weapon.”
“Shia Runa,” Aeons said. In his hands, the weapon glowed golden. “I give you Bramira. Use it only to protect the defenseless and to destroy evil. May your arm be ever strong and your aim ever true.” Aeons took his hands away but the mighty weapon continued to glow.
Shia knelt before Aeons, kissing the hem of his robe. “I am honored by your gift. Know that I will only use it for good. I am grateful for your favor.” Tears ran down his cheeks. “You have shown mercy to me, and so I will show mercy to everyone I meet, even those who do not deserve it.”
Aeons raised Shia to his feet. “Fight the Nephilim with me and my friends.” He smiled. “I hope that you will show mercy for the rest of your life.”’
Scatha raised her eyes from the com pad. Even though the reading had been shorter than most, her voice sounded horse, and she stared at David. She took a gulp of water then said, “Thoughts?”
“I love that story,” Anur said, smiling. “Shia fought the Nephilim beside Aeons, guarding his back. He killed more than anyone else. After the war, he kept his promise and showed mercy to one and all. We must always remember that the Beloved Priests are the kindest and most powerful of all of us. And the best.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “Once I thought about joining the Beloved sect, but—” She bit her lip.
“The Beloved sect barely exists now,” Conal said. “They would have welcomed you with open arms, if you had the strength to join them. So few do, with the desolation.”
“Do not speak of the desolation,” Scatha snapped. Conal jumped and dropped his fork. In a softer tone, Scatha said, “Speaking of the desolation is dangerous. It makes a person think too much, reminds us of what was lost. The Beloved Priests feel it worse than anyone, but you should still avoid it.” She turned to Anur. “Your skill and strength would be wasted in the Beloved sect. We have more use of them. You did well to become a Sword Priest.”
Anur beamed.
Scatha turned to David, Bellon, and Niam. “What about the rest of you?”
“It troubles me.” Bellon hunched his shoulders. “Is mercy truly such a worthwhile thing? I could never forgive a criminal.”
“You are a Sword Priest. Your duty is to fight and protect. Leave the philosophy to the Beloved and Law sects.” Bellon nodded, straightening his shoulders. Scatha looked at Niam. “What about you?”
Niam bit her lip. “If I made a mistake, would Aeons forgive me?” Her voice was very soft.
Scatha shook her head. “You all think too much. As I said, that is not for us to decide. It is for us to fight and strive not to make mistakes, so that Aeons will not have to forgive. Kemp.” She looked right at David. “You’re normally very quiet during discussions. You must have some opinion about this reading.”
He looked away. She knew he didn’t pay attention, he could tell that now. She’d let him get away with it so far. He wondered if she’d read this story just for his sake. “Well—” He cleared his throat, trying to organize his jumbled thoughts. “Well, that’s the first time I’ve heard that story, so I don’t really know. Who was that Shia guy? And that Quezzie or whatever person?”
Bellon snorted, and Anur winced. Scowling, Scatha said, “Shia Runa was the first Beloved Cardinal – they were called the Mercy sect back then, though. Quetzal Coa was the first High Priest.”
“Right. Well, um, it sounded exciting?”
Conal rolled his eyes. “You’re clueless, David.”
David sank lower in his chair and chewed his dinner slowly. Scatha flipped her com pad shut and left the table. As soon as she left, Bellon slammed his fork down on the table and whirled on David. “Talk, Kemp. How did you get Bramira?”
David looked down. “I told you. Cethon gave it to me.”
Conal shook his head and rolled his eyes again. “That doesn’t answer anything, David. How did you even meet Cardinal Jing?”
He fidgeted a bit but resigned himself to answering. The meeting with Cethon had been deeply strange, with her making all kinds of bizarre statements, like knowing all about him and how Bramira was meant for him. And how he wasn’t supposed to fall in love.
