Reinar arrived to gather the group at midday. He inspected them briefly, showing little emotion, and then led them wordlessly out of the city. They passed through the old quarter of the city, which still held many buildings from Hamal's founding. These flat roofed, single level houses, stood out starkly amongst the larger constructs of the more recent generations.
However Reinar gave them no time to admire the area, pushing the group onwards at a fast pace. They passed noisy drinking halls, bakers trying to sell the last of the mornings bread, and a row of Masons' shops, outside of which stood several raw slabs of stone. Just shy of the city the land was dotted with the small farms that were able to survive in the arable land closest to the coast. Fields of sugar beets, barley and potatoes lay dispersed in between the larger rye plants. Once they reached the northern outskirts of the city, the Miirvkin desert stretched out before them.
The sight was one that Thibalt and Christill had rarely seen, and for a moment they stopped. In the distance, a fine brown grass carpeted the ground, occasionally spotted with larger razorleaf bushes, date palms and odd shaped cacti. Further on, miles from the city, the grass gave way to barren sand and dark rock formations. Standing under the scorching sun, Thibalt and Christill quickly gained a respect for the hunters that travelled into the wilds to bring back game for their families.
Christill, nudged his brother and whispered, "Has he even looked at you?"
Thibalt glanced at Reinar. "Not that I have seen."
Christill could find no reason that their father would pay them no attention, yet thought better than to question him. They were not unused to Reinar's stern nature, but Christill would have expected at the very least a greeting.
"There is no greater place than out here for you to become men," Reinar called out, gaining their attention.
The boys all turned and moved closer.
"Out here, you will truly find yourselves. Each of you will come face to face with your worst fears and test the limits of your body and mind."
Thibalt already liked where this was heading.
The transformation from child to man is not something that you will simply gain with age," Reinar continued. "The simple minded Feldonians consider a boy turned into a man when he reaches his fourteenth turning of the seasons. The Miirvkin know better." This brought smiles to many of the boys, and also sent several smug looks in the brothers' direction. "To become a man takes years of toil. Hard training that will mould your body to a form that is befitting a Miirvkin. Instruction in hunting that will allow you to provide for the community, and the attainment of mental discipline which will allow you to push through anything that stands in your way.
"I killed my first foe when I was not much older than you all. He was a Feldonian man, old and weak, yet still a soldier at heart. The warriors of our raid had left me alone, busy claiming spoils from the village that we had attacked. I had gone to find my own prizes and he came at me with a small axe, a deathly rage in his eyes."
The group listened on intently, mesmerised by the story.
"I watched him run at me and stood my ground proudly. By the time it was over I had received this," he said, showing them a long brown scar along his thigh. "But I had taken everything from him."
Thibalt and Christill had never heard Reinar talk of his childhood and were surprised to hear the passion in his voice.
"I thought Beon was watching over me that day. Yet I know now that I overcame that trial because of my training. I will see that every one of you is given the same chance. Your lessons with me will be difficult. You will feel pain, and you will want to yield, but remember that in life you are rarely given that choice." He paused and Thibalt saw his eyes flicker over him quickly. Both brothers noticed a hint of discomfort in Reinar's features, which was quickly replaced by his usual hard look.
Reinar then guided them out past the farms and into the wastes. Here they were made to endure the raging heat, whilst running through a series of rocky formations. Reinar gathered them together and set them to climbing a rough rock face that had few handholds. The boys struggled to make the twenty foot climb, and by the end of the trial only four of them were able to reach the top. Amongst them was Thibalt, who despite his smaller Feldonian heritage showed great strength in scrambling up the rock face.
Christill gave it his best, but could not find the energy to make the climb. He left the rock face, feeling ashamed and sat off to the side of the group. He watched as the Miirvkin boys laughed at his feeble attempts and turned his body away from them.
Thibalt walked up to him and gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. "It was your first try. There is no reason to be ashamed," he said.
"You had no trouble."
"I am also a lot bigger than you," Thibalt said with a smile.
The comment raised Christill's spirits. He did not however miss the looks of approval that some of the other boys cast in Thibalt's direction, and could not stop a hint of jealousy entering his thoughts.
As they continued their conditioning, Thibalt made every effort to avoid Cathan. Each time that circumstance brought him near, he could feel the tension thick in the air.
"One of these days I will show Cathan my true strength," Thibalt whispered to Christill, as they paused to stretch their legs.
"Be careful. He is no weakling, and the son of Lord Bearn. It would not be wise to make enemies with him."
"I think it is too late for that," Thibalt replied. "Look at him!"
Christill peered over to Cathan, who was staring at them, spite evident in his gaze. He was surrounded by several other Miirvkin boys and was undoubtedly the leader in their gang.
"I believe it would be best for us to keep our distance," said Christill.
Thibalt merely grunted.
Reinar signalled a halt and turned to face them. "It is time for your next lesson. I am not impressed by what I have seen, however you have many years ahead of you. In time I will see that you are made respectable."
Christill did not relish the thought of several years of endurance out in the Miirvkin Desert. He saw that his brother was not as concerned. Thibalt was talking to one of the other Miirvkin boys, a skinny youth named Palen, with a shaved head, who had been impressed by his performance in the tests.
Reinar led them back towards the city and they reached the Mul'Pha Square tired and sore. Beanon stood waiting impatiently, his arms, face and chest covered in ash and grease from the forges.
"You are late Reinar," he said, with the hint of a smirk on his face.
"I am never late."
"Hah!" Beanon snorted, "I must be early then." He let out a raucous laugh and motioned for the boys to follow him. Reinar left them without a word.
They followed Beanon through the narrow passages of the Hamal, heading closer to the southern shore. Unlike Reinar, Beanon could not keep himself from talking as he moved amongst the boys. They passed a massive building with a peaked roof and several high windows, and Thibalt and Christill overheard the other boys referring to it as the Arcein Arena. Thibalt asked Palen what it was and was told it was the hall where games were staged for the populous. Though children were not permitted inside, Palen added sadly.
They continued on to the harbour side, where they watched fishing skiffs unloading their catches. The dockside workers carried the fresh fish up to the mongers and butchers that lined the waterfront, and even from a distance the smell was overpowering.
Finally they reached a group of stone buildings littered with chimneys that were emitting thick black clouds of smoke. Beanon led them into the largest building and pushed them past room after room of glowing furnaces. In each forge they saw heavy set workers pounding away onto heated pieces of iron, sparks flying through the air. Beanon then showed them the rooms where the silversmiths worked the precious metals brought over from the city of Mulphus to the west.
Thibalt and Christill followed enthusiastically, staring wide eyed at the axes hanging from the walls and piles of spear heads covering benches. They
reached the last room in the building and sat down on a round carpet. This room did not hold the acrid smell and level of dirt that they had encountered in the forges. The walls were lined with displays of exotic weaponry, armour and clothing that the boys had never seen.
"This room holds some of the greatest prizes that we have ever claimed from our enemies," Beanon called out. "There are items here that the Miirvkin of the past brought back with them from their raids on the mainland. Explore whilst you wait. I will return shortly." Beanon then left the room.
Thibalt stood up with the others and approached an unusually long spear that was mounted on the wall. Its forked blade was deadly sharp and resembled a crab claw. He picked it up and admired its beautiful craftsmanship. Cathan walked past him with a wicked smile on his face, causing Thibalt to tighten his grip on the spear.
Christill walked around, gazing at a collection of jewel encrusted scabbards and then a series of helmets, made to resemble beaks. He did not stop until he reached a tall, yet strangely slender, suit of armour standing in the corner of the room. The suit was made from an odd metal, with a dark mossy tinge that reflected the torchlight. Christill had never seen such a thing of beauty before. Behind the armour, a green cloak flowed gracefully down to the floor, and as he followed the cloak down, he saw that four fingers of the gauntlets attached to the armour held menacing claws. The keen-edged claws surprised him at first, seeming out of place on such a thing of elegance. But he later came to appreciate their use.
His eyes where then drawn to a bow that was hanging on the wall behind the armour. He shifted to gain a better look and was fascinated by its design. The wood had been ingrained with carvings of creeping vines and flowers, and its double arched shape was worlds apart from the simplicity of the rarely used Miirvkin bows. Christill felt a sudden urge to take the bow, but had to restrain himself as Beanon re-entered the room.
Thibalt quickly placed the spear back onto the wall and returned to the carpet. The group gazed up at Beanon, who had donned a bronze coloured suit of armour, and was holding a double handed hammer in his hands. He stepped closer, towering over them in an intimidating manner. The Miirvkin warhammer held two rounded spikes on each side of its heavy head, and the suit he wore was made from a series of small plates, joined firmly together to cover his chest, legs and upper arms.
"This, as most of you should know, is a traditional Miirvkin weapon," Beanon began, presenting the hammer. "It is much too heavy for any of you to wield, so you will have to wait a few years until you begin training with them."
A series of disappointed murmurs spread through the group.
"This armour is what our greatest warriors wear into battle," he continued. "It is made from metals hauled from the deep mines of the city of Mulphus. It is made flexible and strong, a valuable asset in battle, and also light enough to be carried in the heat of Miirvk. Let me demonstrate for you."
Beanon walked over to the wall and drew a thin sword from a sheath. He moved over to Cathan and handed him the sword. "I want you to strike me. Use all of your might."
Cathan held the sword awkwardly and gave Beanon a puzzled look. "Are you sure?" he asked.
"When I command, you obey...Relax, you will not hurt me," Beanon replied with a grin.
Cathan gripped the sword with both hands and sliced at Beanon. The sword struck his side and sent a dim echo through the room. Beanon looked down to his side then presented it to the group. They all looked on in awe at the armour that had not even scratched.
Beanon continued to explain the advantages of the Miirvkin armour for the remaining hours of the day. As the sun began to set, Beanon finished the lesson. He allowed the boys to attempt to wield the large hammer before they left and promised them more fun on the next day.
The group left the building and went their separate ways, Thibalt and Christill heading east towards their own home.
"That was terrific. I cannot wait until tomorrow's lesson," Thibalt said, skipping happily along the streets.
"I know. I want to see that bow again."
"Bow?" Thibalt replied, lowering his brow," What would you want to waste your time on that for?"
"When I get a chance, I will show you," said Christill with a smirk. "Maybe I can try it out on the Disciple?
Thibalt laughed. "I think I will join you."
"I might have to wait, I want to find out more about the land in which we were born first."
"Why learn about a land that we will most likely never see, Christill. I want to learn how to fight, so that I can teach Cathan a lesson," he replied, swinging an invisible axe through the air.
"You will never change," Christill replied. "You will always talk with your fists rather than your head."
Thibalt raised his hands, fists clenched tightly. "Maybe you need a good talking to then," he said, playfully hitting Christill in the chest. Christill chased Thibalt all the way home, laughing as they wrestled in the streets.
They reached home and were both greeted by Jin who tackled the boys to the ground. They eventually forced him off and walked inside to the large table in the main room where Kera had placed a stew of salted cod and parsnip bread. The two boys ate swiftly, telling Siri about their day in-between mouthfuls. Finally full, they then stumbled off to their room and dropped into their beds exhausted. Just before he drifted into slumber, Christill made a promise not be late the next morning.
CHAPTER TWO
PROMISES
Dawn of the Valiant (The Valerious Chronicles: Book One) Page 9
