“Ai, Dottore. I ken.”
“Begin.” Dante moves to retrieve the first object, grabbing onto it with his hand and then transfers the object to the shelf case. He tries several times to find the right slot but fails. On the twelfth try, he finds the correct shape and places it through. When he does, Germanicus slaps him sharply across the face. Cammilia emits a growl but is induced into submission by Germanicus’ wolf, Shep. His face burns.
“Well done. You will remember where that object is now. Do you ken?”
“Ai. Dottore.” Dante returns to the shelf case and retrieves the next object. And when he finds the respective slot for the object, he once again is rewarded with a hard slap to the face. Dante continues with several more objects, and when he finds their respective slots, he is rewarded with a small flog to his hands, which burn and leave red scratches. Dante cringes.
“Keep going, boy! I didn’t say ‘stop’!” Dante continues with the following object and the next until he finds all sixty of the slots of the object on the shelf board. After finding them all, he is rewarded with a slap on his wrists, which continue to burn more painfully with each new flogging. He winces briefly but pushes the thoughts from him.
“Well done. Now you should remember where all the objects are on the shelf case. Begin again! Now!” Dante returns to the first object and places it in its slot, but not quick enough. Germanicus snaps a beaded whip, and a laceration appears on his wrist.
“Did you not hear me say as quickly as possible?” Dante rubs his wrist painfully.
“I cry pardon, Dottore.”
“You will remember that mistake.” Dante continues with the exercise but this time with as much expediency as he can muster. He remembers the location for each object except one. And when he makes that error, he pays for it dearly. Germanicus snaps the whip again painfully on his wrist.
“Start over again and this time, do not make a mistake! Do not test my patience, boy!” Booms Germanicus.
“Ai, Dottore.”
Dante repeats the exercise from the beginning, and this time he does not make a mistake. His face still stings from the numerous slaps, and his wrist burns painfully, but he feels a glowing pride underneath. He did not think himself so capable.
“Well done, boy. Three and a half minutes. Not too bad. You will have to get below a minute, though.”
Dante swallows hard and calculates. He looks at Germanicus dubiously. “But that’s sixty objects in less than a minute. That’s impossible.”
Germanicus smacks him across the face. “Make haste and leave this place. You are no longer a recruit. You never question your Dottore.”
“I cry pardon, Dottore. You did not allow me to finish my sentence. I meant that it was impossible for most. I can do it. Allow me to prove to you.”
Germanicus looks at Dante and seems to consider him. “Never question anything I say ever again, boy. That is called a pass, and that is the only one I will extend to you. Is that understood?”
“Ai. Dottore. I ken. I will not make that mistake again.”
“See that you don’t.”
Dante continues the exercise again and again, ignoring shoulders that seem to be weighed down with an anchor and a parched mouth that seems incapable of producing saliva. He knows instinctively where each piece is and each time his time diminishes but not enough.
He finally succeeds in completing the task in under two minutes, but then he hits a plateau. Every ten times he completes the task, his time only diminished by mere seconds. He has to reduce his time by only thirty seconds, but it may have been forty years. The task seems insurmountable if not impossible.
Germanicus sits down next to him and pats his leg. “You acquiesce to defeat before you even begin, Dante. You’re overthinking it. Your mind knows the routine too well, but your body hesitates. Stop overthinking it. Let your mind and body blend and comingle as one. Fluidity. You must be fluid, boy. Empty your mind of everything and give into the fluidity. You can do this. You have the potential. And your future depends on it. Relax. Take deep breaths and synchronize. You can do it.”
Dante stands up. He takes deep breaths and hyper-focuses, allowing his mind to clear of all extraneous thoughts. The pain that pervades his body seems to diminish-willed away from his thoughts. He is ready. He stands before the shelf case. “Begin.” Dante does not hesitate. He is barely cognizant of his body reaching for the objects. They seem to work of their own accord. He focuses on his speed and a sense of fluidity. It is almost as if his body were separate and he is there along for the ride. He remembers grabbing the last piece, and then Dottore’s voice breaks the spell. “Well done, boy. Fifty-eight seconds. You passed.” He embraces Dante and gives him sips of water. “Not too fast.”
“Now you rest. Tomorrow you will face opponents, and unlike the objects you are grabbing, they can fight back. I’ll show you to your room.”
Chapter 4: A Haunting Mistake
Germanicus shows Dante and Cammilia to their room, which consists of a medium sized cot, alabaster walls and an oak nightstand that holds two copies of El Testamiento del Jesus De Cristo. The Testament of Jesus Christ. One version is in Braille, and the other version is in Latin, with the corresponding English subtitles, presumably for when Dante regains his sight, if and when that happens.
The cramped space is a welcome repose from the massive auditorium, and it reminds Dante of the coziness of his cave; though it’s much warmer. He lays down and sleeps almost immediately, while Cammilia curls up around him protectively.
(2)
Later that evening, Germanicus walks down the hallway with Shep, looks in his office and observes a lantern burning. He sees Merlin in his chair, with Shadow at his side. As Germanicus walks in, Merlin gets up from his chair and defers to Germanicus, who is not relishing the imminent conversation they will have.
“I cry pardon, Dottore. You may have a seat.” Merlin sits in the other chair, which is purposely fashioned to be lower, establishing Germanicus’ dominance in the room-mostly for his recruits. It is, however, difficult to feel like the dominant one in the presence of Merlin.
“We haven’t spoken since your return. We are well met. I’m sorry you missed the celebration.”
Germanicus frowns. “That’s not what lured me in to the Brotherhood. You ken?”
“Not why I did either, Dottore, but there’s nothing wrong with enjoying occasional perks. You ken?” asks Merlin.
Germanicus shrugs. “I suppose.”
“Domithicus informed me of the incident with the Orachai. Gratitude for your service in rescuing the innocent.”
Germanicus smirks. “Gratitude is not necessary for my duty.” He pauses. “But is not what you would have done though. Is it not?”
“You know my opinion on the matter. Ithicus was correct in his assumption. Killing them all would have left less complications. Perhaps Barrabus would have been true to word, a rare trait for the Orachai. But even if he had, the council still would have reached their conclusions and their course of action. They had irrefutable proof of our intrusion and our perceived transgressions against them because they had a witness. With all of them dead, they would only have their suspicions, nothing more.”
“Perhaps I viewed a different scenario. Only time will tell if my actions were an oversight.”
Merlin sighs heavily. “I pray for all our sakes you are right, brother. As I mentioned, I say a thankee for sworn duty upheld.”
Germanicus nods. “We are well met, brother.”
“Then nothing more will be said about this.”
“Ai,” says Germanicus. “Suits me well.” Germanicus pauses. “What of the boy, Merlin? What is his role in all of this?”
“As I have mentioned, I believe it was portentous that we found him. I am not a prognosticator and know not what role he is to play, but the Lord has seen fit to save him. He is in mortal danger. The interloper who’s conspiring and sabotaging and destroying our Empire is the same who seeks to kill the boy. We find h
im, and we find our culprit.”
“A deadly paradox. If we desert the boy, he is as good as dead and yet, if he stays, we are indirectly using him as bait to find our interloper, right under the nose of his mortal enemy.”
“Ai. We are the last defense.” He sighs. “It has always been the way of the Brotherhood.”
“We need more knights. We need an army.”
“As you know, he makes home in Council Chambers like a hindserpent among baby frecks. He hides and conspires in the shadows, but his resources are vast. Beyond vast. We must be vigilant Germanicus.”
“Ai. His fate affects us all. Have you tried to enter their minds of recent?”
“Ai. And when I do I receive an excruciating headache for my troubles. He is well cloaked by a sorceress.”
“Could it be her?”
Merlin rubs his temples and ponders. “Her body left unfound. A mystery that remains. If it is her, God help us all.”
“We are well met, Brother.”
“Ai,” responds Merlin.
Chapter 5: Meeting the other Recruits
Dante nearly falls out of his cot from the sound of the obnoxious voice that issues from Germanicus but falls asleep seconds later. Cammilia hears the Dottore from down the hallway and expects his entrance. She barks sharply to alert Dante, but he is dead to the world for the moment. It is, after all, the first full night’s sleep he had in nearly six months, the first time he didn’t have to worry about an intruder.
“Get up runt!” Being on full alert, Cammilia is unsure and growls lowly in a half-hearted warning but is immediately cozened into deference by Shep’s more menacing growl.
Still shaking off the vestiges of grogginess, Dante nevertheless remembers his place. “Ai, Dottore!”
“Make that bed, runt and meet us in the gymnasium in five minutes.”
“Ai, Dottore.”
Germanicus shuts the door abruptly and walks out. Dante had never ‘made’ a bed before, but he surmises its meaning. He is to prepare the bed in a neat manner. He does so as quickly and as neatly as possible and then leaves his room, with Cammilia trailing behind him.
He walks into the gymnasium, sheepishly but quickly, still unaccustomed to his surroundings. Cammilia senses his misgivings and nudges him along affectionately. She remains on guard but feels that he is safe here- at least for the time being.
The sound of Germanicus’ intimidating, percussive voice is so loud it seems to drown out most of his thoughts. In a way, it is a welcome sound to the absence of any voice, except for the ones in his head.
The smell of salty, rank sweat is pervasive, and he can sense the eyes of the recruits on him. Several wolves bark out a menacing greeting that Cammilia returns as she darts in front of Dante and stands firm. She growls out a warning.
The other dogs in the gymnasium sit down, whining in deference. At least for the time being, they seem to accept them. Germanicus halts his practice with the other boys and looks at Dante with a piercing gaze that seems to expose his conscious vulnerability like a thin sheet. If there was a cave nearby, Dante would have run into it.
“Dante, come and meet your sparing partners.” Several of the boys snicker. Dante hesitates for a brief moment, but he remembers his place. “Ai, Dottore.”
Dante walks briskly over to Germanicus. Maximus, the star recruit, whispers to his friend, Luke. “I’d wager a week’s ration of halenut cake the newbie doesn’t last for more than a month.”
Luke briefly scrutinizes the newbie and considers. “He’s maybe a harder case than you think. I’ll take that bet.”
“Luke, Maximus!” yells Germanicus. “It seems you two just volunteered for rectory cleanup for the next month. Care to make it two?”
They both bow their heads and speak in unison. “We cry pardon, Dottore! Gratitude for your leniency.”
“Do not interrupt me again lest foot finds a way into those pieholes of yours and other foot makes its way into your ass.” Several recruits cannot contain their laughter and giggle.
They speak in unison again. “Forgive us, Dottore. It will not happen again.”
“Recruits, we are honored to welcome Dante as recruit and his wolf, Cammilia. Dante is well ahead of many of you who have not adopted a wolf yet. For those of you who have not linked with a wolf, take heed. Make your connections by Autumn Pence or be removed from the program. You may resume your exercises.”
Dante touches Cammilia and senses the recruit’s workout, which seems identical to his own that he had done yesterday. What if he had forgotten what he had learned the day before? He puts his hands nervously to his knee, which seems to have taken on a mind of its own. It shakes nervously. Cammilia nudges him reflexively, and it mitigates his reaction.
Germanicus approaches Dante’s group, bending down on one knee. Cammilia nudges his shoulder affectionately, and he returns the nudge with a loving pat. “Dante, you do remember what you learned yesterday?”
Dante prays he does. He doesn’t want to appear weak and forgetful in front of Dottore, so he answers without hesitation. “Ai, Dottore. I remember.”
Germanicus pats his leg. “That’s Good, runt. You will need it. Otherwise, this is going to be a very painful morning.” An impossible lump forms in his throat and he is unable to swallow.
Germanicus looks at the rest of the group. “Recruits, Dante is blind, but don’t feel sorry for him. We will make no allowances for his handicap. You ken?”
“Ai, Dottore!” They respond, almost too loudly, as if they are looking for an excuse for Dante to disagree.
“Hold nothing back as you would in sparring with your partners,” commands Dottore.
“Ai, Dottore!” They cry out again in perfect unison.
“Syrus II, you’re up. Dante, you take a position in a defensive position. “Dante hesitates only briefly. Even without Cammilia at his side, he’s able to find his place next to Syrus II.” What we practiced yesterday. You ken?” asks Dottore.
“Ai, Dottore,” responds Dante.
“When we start, Syrus II will begin with the very first defensive position, continuing in order and then the next row and the next and then he will start over again. On the third time, he will mix it up, forcing you to use defensive blocks from each row, but you will not know which one. Do you ken, runt?”
“Ai, Dottore.”
“Begin.”
Syrus II begins the first punch. Without even consciously thinking about it, Dante blocks it in the very first defensive posture he learned the day before. He feels Syrus’ fist slam into his hand, causing only a mild sting.
“Good. When you’re through, start at the defensive posture once again and prepare for the next assault,” orders Dottore.
Syrus II complies and punches again. Dante blocks the punch and feels as his hand travels past him. Without consciously planning his next move, he returns to the starting position for the next round of attacks. They come swiftly. Syrus II is immensely strong and true to his word. He holds nothing back. If anything, he pushes himself even harder, hoping to land a blow.
“Next row.”
Syrus II throws a wild uppercut into Dante’s sternum. This time, Dante reacts too slowly. His hand barely comes up into a defensive position before the boy’s unnaturally hard fist finds its way into his sternum, eliciting a painful cry from Dante. Cammilia barks, while Dante coughs, trying to inhale air into his lungs that had been depleted with the violent punch.
“Dante, heel Cammilia,” orders Dottore.
“Ai, Dottore.” Dante approaches Cammilia, trying to assuage her. “It’s okay, girl. Heel. I am okay. Sit and stay. You ken?” She cocks her head to the side, looking pathetic and overly sympathetic. You ken? Stay.” Cammilia complies, not understanding but accepting the request. She whimpers in muffled tones and reluctantly lays down.
Dante moves quickly back to position. “Begin.”
Syrus II continues to lash out blow after blow, but not one lands. All are blocked. When they had gone through the enti
re defensive positions, Germanicus orders them to repeat it. On the next cycle, a wild and swift undercut catches Dante painfully in the chest, knocking him off balance. He regains his balance in less than a second. He is little more than stunned and ready for the next round of assaults.
“Next partner. Luke you're next.” Luke and Maximus exchange a conspiratorial nod.
Luke continues the exercises with Dante, reigning blow after blow, which seems more powerful than Syrus’. Though the first round of blows fails to land on Dante, he can feel their potential with each one. His hands begin to throb in degree after each dangerous strike. On the third round, one blow sneaks by Dante and penetrates his ribs on the right side, eliciting a loud and startled cry. He returns to position, even as he wheezes from the assault. Cammilia whimpers quietly, unsure of his compliance in something that hurts him. But she knows the boy is not in mortal danger, and so she reluctantly waits by his side.
Jericho goes next, and his punches are just as hard as Luke’s. Petronius follows, and by this time, Dante’s hands and shoulders began to throb painfully from holding up his hands in a defensive posture for such a length of time and blocking punch after punch that is thrown with maximum force.
And just when Dante believes that he is at his capacity for pain, he is proven wrong. The worst is yet to come, for Dottore had been saving the strongest pupil for last-Maximus.
As Maximus walks out and looks into Dante’s eyes, he can’t help but to notice that the boy seems to look through him rather than at him. He is stupefied as to why Dottore would send this pathetic blind boy out to fight into one of the most formidable of groups. It is after all the consensus among the recruits that Maximus’ group is one of the strongest. Perhaps Dottore is throwing him to the wolves to break him quickly and send him packing. Perhaps, he is testing his mettle. Maximus will not fail in this test. He will send this boy packing-either forced or voluntarily. One way or another, he will go. And the sooner, the better.
Lycenea Page 4
