Suddenly, Jeth stopped and looked at the picture of a woman. Tartum was confused why Jeth would stop to admire one of the paintings and halt their progress. He didn’t like the fact that he had suddenly decided to become a connoisseur of artwork at this inoppurtune time. He was about to tell Jeth to hurry up when he saw intense sorrow in his eyes. With his curiosity peaked, Tartum looked at the portrait that had envoked such an emotional change in a man as two dimensional as Jeth.
The woman in the picture was ugly. Not just ugly, hideous. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail that was so long it only stopped due to the boarder of the canvas. Her eyes were misaligned and were slanted independently of each other. One eye was blue and the other brown. Her face was heavily scarred and gave Tartum the impression she had been burned severely. She may have been pretty at one time, but Tartum assumed that was long ago. The scars were far from flattering, yet the artist seemed to have gone to great lengths to emphasize each one. Her teeth were butter yellow, and some were colored black. Tartum didn’t understand why Jeth would show such emotion towards such a person. In fact, Tartum couldn’t understand why the portrait had been commissioned, let alone hung up for all to see in the hallway of the guild.
“Who are these people?” Tartum asked.
Without looking away from the painting, Jeth answered. His voice sounded hollow and far away. “These are all the members that have died for the guild. If you die while carring out a job for the guild, Savall has your portrait painted and placed here as a reminder for everyone else. Only the strong survive, and this hallway is a reminder of what happens to the weak.”
“Who was she?” Tartum asked. His curiosity getting the better of him.
“She was my trainer. She didn’t look like this before, Tartum. Savall has the artist paint their portrait to include how they were killed. Some have nooses around their throats, others have big gaping wounds from knives, swords or arrows. Some of them are just heads, indicating decapitation or guillotine.” Jeth took a deep breath and continued. “She was killed on my first mission; we were in a grain warehouse taking what we needed for the guild. I picked up too much and lost my balance, knocked over a lantern she had lit so we could see. Do you know how flammable grain is, Tartum?”
Tartum nodded his head. He was the son of a farmer and knew how dangerous dried out plants and fire could be. Jeth never looked up to see his answer.
“The fire torched the entire building. I panicked, she got me out through a hole in the wall she had made. The fire quickly closed off the exit, and she was trapped inside. I can still hear her scream. Everytime I walk down this hall, I can hear it.” Jeth said. His voice was trailing off, and he spoke so quietly Tartum had to lean in to hear him. Tartum was beginning to think maybe Jeth was a human being afterall. In the middle of this contemplation, Jeth turned toward him suddenly with a sinister grin on his face.
“Naw! I’m just kidding! She was my trainer, sure, but she got caught and was burned for being a thief. Stupid bitch got herself killed on a simple pilfering mission!” with a laugh Jeth gave Tartum a shove and began walking down the hall.
“Come on you gullible twat! If you fell for that sob story then fighting you should be no challenge at all.” Jeth called over his shoulder.
Tartum was thoroughly disgusted, both at Jeth and at himself. Everything he knew about Jeth proved he had no soul. Why did he keep falling for his games? Every chance that man had, he made a fool out of him! Tartum had enough, today he would stop taking Jeth’s abuse and dish out some of his own. Today, Jeth would be the butt of the joke, and Tartum would be the one laughing. Tightening his grip on his staff, Tartum stalked after Jeth.
...
The hallway opened up into a large room. The room was shaped like a large wooden box. Only the floor was stone, the same flat, grey stone Tartum remembered from his time in the Null Box. The walls were covered in planks of wood, and there were two support beams in the center of the room. The walls were pitted and scarred from what looked to be a thousand battles. There was dried blood on the floor and even more on the walls. There looked to be some half hearted attempts to clean the areas, but whoever had been tasked to it must have given up quickly. There were no decorations or grand displays in this room. It was built for only one purpose...Combat.
Vaund was sitting in a chair he must have brought with him. He was in the corner of the room, near the entrance. He looked bored and lost in a day dream. He looked up when he heard them coming into the room. He saw Tartum and smiled. He seemed sad, as if he knew something he wasn’t happy about but couldn’t do anything about it. Vaund waved a hello to Tartum. Tartum nodded his reply. His anger was too strong for any civility at the moment. Jeth had no such handicap.
“Morning, Vaund! You look as happy as Tartum was to be up! Well no matter, I hope you’re ready cause you got a full day of healing ahead of you!” Jeth said cheerfully. The man could have been talking about going to a fair, the way he was carrying on. Tartum found his lack of concern sickening. Could the man really be that ignorant? Could he really be that good? Tartum meant to find out.
Jeth turned his attention away from Vaund and looked around the room.
“This is the combat room, if you haven’t already figured that out. Every single member of the guild has been bled here. Even the great Savall has left some of himself on these walls. In a way, this room has a piece of every member that’s ever been apart of this guild. Today, you get to leave your piece. Although, I dont think it’ll be a small one.” Jeth laughed. Tartum was beginning to hate the sound.
“Enough of your prattle, Jeth. Are we going to fight or just posture all day!?” Tartum said. His patience was at its end.
Jeth’s attitude changed completely. He turned and faced Tartum. They were about ten paces from each other. Jeth drew his daggers, slowly, deliberately. Tartum knew Jeth wanted him to see just how incredible they were. The twin blades were three inches wide and blade heavy. The blades got wider the closer to the hilt they got. Mid-way down the five inch long steel there was a barb on each side. Perfect for catching an opponent’s blade to disarm them or to make sure any wound they inflicted couldn’t be healed easily. They gleamed with a shine only meticulous care could give. Jeth obviously took extremely good care of his weapons. The hilt looked to be steel, capped with mother of pearl. The blades themselves were etched with an intracate design that made the them look elegant, yet sinister, at the same time. If anything, Tartum thought the blades were a perfect match to Jeth. Colorful, yet dangerous, and completely unfeeling. Fear stared to slide into his stomach, dulling the anger that had been there before.
Jeth’s wicked grin spread across his face. “No witty comment? No half hearted threat? Gosh Tartum, have I beaten you already?” Jeth’s chuckle was pure malice.
Tartum’s fear vanished and his anger returned. He raised his staff and twirled it around him in an awesome display of martial prowess. The familiar green blur gave him the comforting feeling that he was surrounded by a protective bubble.
“Not at all, I just don’t have the need to be constantly talking. You’re like a woman in that aspect. Always yapping.” As Tartum finished his retort, he did his best sarcastic impersonation of Jeth’s grin. “Shall we fight, or do you want to talk about our feelings next?”
Jeth yelled his laughter. “Oh, recruit! I like you! Do try not to let me kill you! It’ll be a shame if you die today!” With this final comment, Jeth attacked.
Tartum couldn’t believe the speed that Jeth came at him. The gap of ten paces was closed in less than a second, and Tartum found himself immediately on the defensive. Jeth was so fluid with his blades, it was like fighting two opponents at once. Tartum fell back, step by step, until before he knew it, his back foot hit the wall. Moving instinctually, Tartum dove to the right and rolled to a standing postion. He narrowly evaded most of Jeth’s final thrust as he attacked, thinking he had Tartum pinned. As it was, a small trickle of blood was running down Tartum’s arm.
Ta
rtum looked down at his arm. A thin clean cut was bleeding freely down his forearm. He was shocked; he hadn’t even felt the sting to indicate he had been hit. Jeth laughed. “Nasty little blades, aren’t they?”
Tartum’s fury returned, and he lunged at Jeth. Tartum furiously attacked the man. He was still grinning! The lack of worry in his eyes made Tartum furious! How dare this man make a mockery of him! “We’ll see how wide you grin when I crack your skull!” Tartum said through clenched teeth.
“Ooooooooooooh! I’m scared!” Jeth chuckled. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
Tartum was pressing his advantage when suddenly he felt his legs get kicked out from underhim. Before his back hit the floor, Jeth had one of his daggers kissing Tartum’s throat.
“Well, too bad, recruit, if this had been for real I would have killed you without breaking a sweat. So sad. Get up, let’s try this again.” Jeth said. He sounded disappointed.
Jeth stood up and walked a few paces away, giving Tartum a chance to recover. Tartum was stunned. How in the hells did that just happen? One moment he was on the attack, and the next, Jeth had him on his back, one second from ending his life. The thought was mortifying.
Rising, Tartum stood to face Jeth. Opening himself fully to the magic, Tartum prepared himself for the next round.
Jeth turned around and faced him. Holding out his hand, Jeth waved Tartum over. He was daring him to attack! With his senses heightened by the magic flowing through him, his fury was increased ten fold. Tartum flew at Jeth, and for only the second time ever, Tartum saw a moment of surprise in Jeth’s eyes.
Tartum threw everything he had at Jeth. Even with the magic increasing his ability, Jeth was still much faster. The blind fury of Tartum’s attacks kept Jeth from launching his own assault. The smile was gone from his face now, and Jeth was sweating almost as hard as he was. Still, Tartum couldn’t land a blow. Jeth’s daggers always got in between them just in time, or he dodged out of the way at the last possible second.
Tartum was running out of tricks, and the focus on keeping his magic in check, while trying to take Jeth down, was quickly draining his energy. Tartum finally saw his chance, as it appeared Jeth had lost his balance. Swinging his staff around to break Jeth’s skull as promised, Tartum thought the fight was his. Jeth saw the blow coming and tilted his head with the swing to take just a glancing hit from what would have possibly taken his head off.
Tartum saw Jeth momentarily stumble from the blow and put the blunt end of his staff against Jeth’s chest.
“Yield!” Tartum screamed! His triumph was certain!
Jeth looked up at Tartum, confused. “Yield? Do you think this is a game, Recruit? Do you think you’ve beaten me? You had your chance a moment ago, but you hesitated, in order to offer me the opportunity to yield. Do you really think it’s that easy? Do you believe this would happen in a real life situation? Let me show you just how far from victory you are.” with that, Jeth rolled passed Tartum’s staff and plunged his dagger into his thigh.
Jeth moved so fast, not even Tartum’s magically enhanced reflexes could react in time. The dagger piercing his leg felt like liquid fire burning through his body. When the tip of the weapon buried itself into his leg bone, all coherent thought left Tartum’s mind. The magic only served to intensify the pain, and the moment Tartum released his grip on the source, he no longer had the strength to stand. Screaming, Tartum fell to the ground clutching his leg.
He couldn’t think, he couldn’t move, never in his life had he experienced pain like this. It was paralyzing! He screamed and screamed, until his voice broke, and then he screamed without sound. It was too much. All pride and dignity was thrown to the wind as Tartum looked for Vaund.
“Vaund! Please! Help me!” Another fit of screaming took him as a new wave of pain lanced through his leg. “Please! Vaund! Heal me!” Tartum was losing a lot of blood and was getting cold and dizzy. He saw Vaund approaching. He seemed so far away. Someone was moving his head now. He was forcing Tartum to look at him, laughing. Jeth. That bastard! He said something, as Tartum’s grip on consciousness failed.
“See? I told ya I could make you do it!”
...
Vaund walked over and put his hands on Tartum’s body. His face was ashen, and his heartbeat was weak. Vaund shook his head. The wound Jeth inflicted on Tartum would kill him in the next few minutes, if Vaund didn’t intervene. Concentrating, Vaund channeled his magic into Tartum’s wound. he spoke the words he had spoken more often than he would have liked. Thru his heightened senses, he saw the blood stop flowing from Tartum’s leg and color return to his face. Vaund reached over and pulled the dagger out, letting it fall to the floor. Jeth was offended by the action and retrieved his weapon, inspecting it closely for any damage. Finding none, Jeth glared at Vaund.
“Be more careful with my weapons! They’re worth more than your life!” Jeth said, with acid in his voice.
Vaund wasn’t impressed. He didn’t even acknowledge the threat. He focused his magic into healing the rest of Tartum’s wound and restoring the lost blood to his body. He would live, Vaund had saved his life, just has he had done numerous times already. He wished there was a better way to train recruits for the guild, rather than having to continuously bring them to the brink of death. Not all of them were as fortunate as Tartum. Sometimes the wounds were too severe, the blood loss too great, for even his magic to save them.
Sighing, Vaund released his hold on the source and sat back. The exertion had tired him, but he’d done all he could. With the exception of what would be a fine scar, Tartum was completely healed. Vaund turned to face Jeth.
“Why do you have to try and kill them the first time they come for combat training? Isn’t it enough that you could have just wounded him or knocked him out? Why do you always go for the throat?” Vaund asked.
Jeth regarded the gentle healer for a moment. He looked as if he might apologize, and then the look in his eyes hardened. “Would the guards merely wound him or knock him out? Would a shopkeeper or home owner simply slap him on the wrist if he got caught on a mission? No, they’d kill him. Without hesitation, without remorse. Afterwards they would be rewarded handsomely for their trouble and his body would be displayed on the walls for all to see. I can’t go easy on them, I won’t. They need to know that every fight they are in is a fight for their lives. Hesitation, fear, doubt, mercy; none of these emotions would save them if the time for killing comes. When he wakes up he will hate me, but our next fight will be much closer, and when you heal him from that battle, the next will be better and better until he beats me, maybe even kills me. Bottom line, by the time I’m done with him, he’ll be as hard as nails and ready to eat the soul of anyone that gets in his way. Don’t allow your gentleness to cloud what we are. We’re thieving, stealing, kidnapping, murderers, and we’re very good at what we do. We don’t make diplomats, we make the people that diplomats fear when they’re alone in the dark.” With a wink, Jeth walked out of the training hall.
“See to it he’s fed and watered! I’ll be picking him up in the morning for his second lesson! You may want to be here to save his life!” Jeth called as he walked down the corridor. His laughter echoed along with him.
Vaund felt defeated. He knew everything Jeth said was true. He knew it all before he had asked the question. He just wished there could be a less heartless answer. Sighing to himself, Vaund opened himself to the magic and placed his hand on Tartum’s forehead. With a word, Tartum regained consciousness and looked around wildly.
“Easy, Tartum, easy. Your wound is healed, and your body mended. Go easy though. It might take a moment for your mind to catch up with the condition of your body. Feeling phantom pain is common.” Vaund said in a tender voice.
Tartum saw the look in Vaund’s face and believed him. He was thankful to have him around. He looked around the room to find Jeth. Vaund saw him searching and answered his question before it could be asked.
“Jeth left, he said to make sure you ate and slep
t. Tomorrow you are to come back here for more training.” Vaund said.
Tartum groaned. It wasn’t so much that he had been beaten by Jeth. There was always next time. He didn’t like the knowledge that tomorrow he might end up with another dagger in his body. It scared him to his core that, had Jeth wished, he could have easily killed him at any time. Even with the magic enhancing him, Jeth was still a superior fighter. Tartum was angry at himself. Sitting up, he retrieved his staff. Looking at Vaund, he spoke.
“Just make sure the bastard doesn’t kill me, ok?” Tartum said.
The determination in his voice was a tone Vaund was used to hearing. It was usually spoken by the recruits that would succeed in their training and gave Vaund hope for this caster he had come to like. Patting him on the back, Vaund helped Tartum to his feet.
“You just worry about kicking Jeth’s ass. I’ll worry about keeping you alive.” Vaund said, smiling for the first time.
Tartum laughed at the joke. His leg was a little stiff, but otherwise he felt fine. Looking down the hall, Tartum realized that he was quite hungry. He had been forced to skip breakfast.
“Where does a recruit get something to eat in this place?” he asked.
Vaund laughed. To Tartum, his laughter sounded more like a giggle, and it made him sound like a child, but Tartum said nothing. This man had saved his life more in the past few weeks, than Isidor had in almost twenty years. He’d allow the man his quirks.
“Follow me.” Vaund said, and together they walked towards the kitchens.
...
Tartum was awake and sitting on his bed waiting for Jeth to arrive. He’d been up for an hour. He’d eaten, washed, and even practiced a bit with his staff. He was confident that his second match with Jeth would end in his favor. At the very least, he meant to cause him to cry out for Vaund instead of himself.
Tartum was going over and over the fight from the previous day. He was still trying to figure out how he had lost. Jeth’s grins and over confident smiles, the momentary fear he saw in his eyes. He analyzed every detail, looking for a missed weakness or vulnerability. He had a few ideas and hoped they would work. He decided he’d continue using magic to enhance himself since it was the only way he could keep up with such a superior fighter.
The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 1 Page 23
