Lycenea

by Rory D Nelson

  These thoughts weigh heavy on his mind as he begins to administer the Test of Manna, a crucial test for the recruits. There are two hundred fifty boys and twenty-five teams of ten boys each. Each group grants a leader of their group. Each group is also given an insignia color that represents their team. Equal numbers of badgers are divided among each group’s insignia and correspond to that team’s insignia colors. The goal of each group is to hunt the other teams’ badgers and collect their teams’ insignia colors while protecting their own.

  The team which had killed the largest numbers of competing teams’ badgers and had saved the largest number of their own is granted the title of Primono Dictae, supreme winner. This is a much coveted position that all boys try to strive for since these members of the team are immune to removal for some time. It is widely believed among the boys that this group of boys is considered a shoo-win for knighthood (which is not entirely true).

  Germanicus chooses his teams with careful consideration, splitting up Maximus’ and Dante’s team down the middle. Half of their team will go with Dante and the other half with Maximus.

  “Here me now runts. Today is your test of Manna! Are you ready to begin?”

  “Ai!” cries the boys in near unison. Several others let out ‘whoops’ and whistles. For many of them, it will be a make or break situation. Some of them know their position as recruit is tenuous at best.

  Germanicus looks at the boys and smiles. “You have all done well. You know full well the rules of this game. Do you not?”

  “Ai, Dottore!” yell out the boys in unison.

  “Well then, when I fire my gun, you are to begin!”

  Germanicus brings his left hand out and stretches it, moving his fingers around, intentionally agitating them. A couple of the recruits dart forward with their dogs by mistake.

  “Get back in line runts!” Several recruits laugh at the boys’ guffaw.

  Like Merlin, Germanicus’ drawing hand is preternaturally fast. Not one eye had seen him reach for his pistol. The loud ‘bang’ propels the boys forward at breakneck speeds. Their dogs sprint past them almost immediately and bark, unable to wait for their handlers’ signals.

  Much forethought had been given to teams. And to the chagrin of many, they are separated from their sparring groups in order to ascertain their ability to work in new environments and adapt accordingly.

  Maximus is separated from his sparring group- Dante, Luke, Petronius, Jericho, Syrus II, and Terramus. Most important to Maximus is the fact that he is separated from Dante. He will ensure that Dante’s team will be without the expertise of Dante.

  Dante’s group consists of Sirico, Baltain, Jesse, Pinter, Cuss, Dromedan, Rocco, Lochie and Veranimus, who is vying desperately for knighthood. In three generations of his family, all had been removed from the program, lacking some crucial attribute needed for knighthood. The academics are tough and he had barely passed his last exam, so his position as recruit teeters on a precipice. But what he lacks in academic achievement he makes up for in battle prowess; yet even he knows he is not in the same league as Dante and Maximus.

  Vranimus desperately needs immunity, so when the boys are placed in their respective teams, he quickly nominates Dante for the lead. With Lochie, Rocco seconding the motion, the decision is rendered hastily.

  With Dante and Cammilia as leads, the group sprints out into the woods. “Slow!” commands Dante sharply. Holding tightly to Cammilia’s side, Dante senses a breakup of the forest floor. Something or someone had cleared away the brush to hide something. Testing his hunch, Dante picks up a small rock and aims it at a barely visible clearing in the forest floor about ninety yards ahead of them.

  The rock bounces a couple of times and then lands on a lever, causing a steel trap to close down quickly with extreme force. The boys nod at each other approvingly, content in their decision to nominate Dante.

  “Well done, Dante,” admires Sirico.

  Approximately, one hundred yards to their left, a wolf emits a sharp, high-pitched bark, a warning bark, but it is too late. A boy cries out in excruciating pain as one of the steel traps snap shut on his leg.

  The steel traps have weighted measures on them, allowing the user to set a degree of force from the traps. They won’t break any bones, but they will clamp down on the unwitting recipient and cause extreme agony. He will recover physically, but the blow to his ego will remain, especially if the blunder eliminates him from the program.

  Other over-zealous boys who had sprinted off with reckless abandon will now take heed. Maximus hears the agonizing scream from the boy and smiles to himself. “Ai. Serves you right imbecile.” With the help of Phates’ nose and his keen vision, he too spots one of the steel traps, waiting anxiously along one of the trails.“Stop.” He commands Phates. Maximus picks up a fist sized rock and flings it. He watches it bounce several times and then lands on the steel trap, causing it to close shut.

  Phates’ ears perk up and her nostrils flare and bunch up. Something catches her attention. She never misses anything.

  She lets out a war-cry ‘yelp’. Maximus brings out one of the badger pelts and submits it to her. “Find it.” He commands. Phates races off. “Let’s go.” Maximus races off and the others follow close behind. They emerge from a cluster of trees and a large clearing in the forest floor. Maximus can just barely make out the large rodent sprinting through the clearing. “De Prisa. De Prisa.” He cries.

  Phates complies, sprinting ahead until she had overtaken the rodent. She circles around and blocks the rodent’s escape route to the tree. The badger circles back around and veers in the direction of Maximus’ group.

  This is what he had been waiting for. He slows down, crouches down on his knees and cries out. “Fye. Fye!” Phates races after the rodent, sending him further in the direction of the boys. Maximus removes his sling shot, lines up his sights, holds his breath and releases the lever. The ball flies out and hits the badger in the head, shattering its skull. Blood seeps out of its head and it twitches spasmodically for several seconds and then is still. It is the shot of a marksman- patient, deliberate and a mercifully quick death.

  Maximus spies the large turquoise ribbon around the badger’s neck. He takes it off and places it in his satchel. He looks around at the others in the group smugly. “All right lads. We’re off.”

  Veranimus looks at Dante and Cammilia, mesmerized by their synchronicity. Dante speaks few commands to Cammilia, but the slightest of his nods seems to register with her as she immediately reacts.

  Cammilia strides up to Dante, who puts his hand to her head and then points. “Over there, girl. That eucalyptus tree harbors two badgers, one burgundy, and one green.” The other boys look, unable to see anything. But, after a couple of seconds, several of the tree branches shake violently, indicating some larger rodent-size creatures are climbing.

  “Veranimus, Sirico, roust them out. Jesse, Pinter, Cuss, Dromadain and Baltain, take point when they break and lead them to us.” Not wanting to sound overly domineering, he retraces himself slightly. “Agreed?”

  “Ai,” replies the group. If anyone had a problem with Dante’s exertion of authority, it did not register on their faces.

  Dante’s group takes their respective places. Veranimus and Sirico take a spot approximately ten yards from the tree, take careful aim with their sling shots and then fire them. Because the trees obscure the pair, they are unable to get a direct hit, but several come perilously close, causing the badgers to flee from their refuge. They rush out of the trees as swiftly as their legs will allow, nearly crashing down several branches. The boys continue their relentless volley of shots.

  As soon as the pair of badgers darts out of the tree, Veranimus and Sirico are ready. “I’ll take the lead badger,” says Veranimus. He holds his breath, takes careful aim and releases his sling. At such close proximity, the dense ball smashes into the badger’s head ferociously, nearly disintegrating its head. Its neck snaps back at an impossibly obtuse angle from its head,
killing it.

  The other badger veers right away from the boys as quickly as possible. Unbeknownst to it, Cammilia is crouching down low behind a row of banter weeds. As the badger races out, Cammilia chases it in the direction of Dante. When the badger is approximately twenty yards away from him, Cammilia emits a warning bark.

  This is the signal. Dante takes careful aim, noting the closing distance between him and the badger and the warning bark from Cammilia. He senses minute vibrations in the ground imperceptible to those with sight. Those vibrations tell him everything he needs to know- how close the animal is to him, how fast he is going, how big it is and the exact angle he needs for his shot.

  He slows his breathing until he can feel his heart beating inside his chest and focuses on nothing else and then releases the sling. His shot finds its mark, smashing into the badger’s skull, killing it. The badger’s head fell to the ground and it skids several feet and then turns on its side. Cammilia barks triumphantly, nudges and licks him affectionately. “Well done girl.” He says. He approaches the badger. As soon as its death throes subside, Dante picks it up and ties it to a large stick fabricated for carrying badger corpses.

  Less than two hours into the contest and Dante had already managed to snare five badgers decisively. With Cammilia in the lead, Dante’s group is well on their way to capturing another. Maximus watches Dante’s progress from afar, paralleling his group from a safe distance.

  So far, Maximus’ group had collected four badgers, only one less than Dante’s group. But, at the rate they are playing, in a couple of hours more, they could easily surpass them by several more. Many in the group need immunity from elimination. Though Maximus considers himself safe regardless of whether or not his team wins the challenge, he will still be that much farther off from maintaining the lead position.

  “Tatamus, I need to drain the snake,” says Maximus.

  “When Phates is hot on her scent? You can’t hold off for a little while longer?” asks Tatamus indignantly.

  “Are you now my nursemaid, Drumsickle?” asks Maximus bitterly. “I must confer with you to piss?”

  “No,” says Tatamus with reluctant deference.

  “Then shut your pipehole before fist finds home inside it, lowborn.”

  “Ai.”

  Maximus ventures further into the thicket and continues until he comes to a minor incline in the forest floor, taking advantage of the sparse vegetation at the base of the incline. It is a good vantage point and he is able to spy Dante and his group, surreptitiously.

  He removes his sling and hesitates for a moment. Though blind, the boy seems to look around, as if something is amiss. Perhaps he knows he is being watched. Maximus brings up his sling shot quickly and aims for Dante’s vulnerable knee socket. He aims for the smallest part of the socket itself, knowing that even if he is slightly off, the impact will be quite deleterious to him. At the very least, he will be unable to walk. At the most, he will be unable to continue in the contest- and preferably out of commission for a while.

  Without the expertise of Dante, his group will fall behind Maximus’ group- at least to his reckoning. Maximus holds his breath for a brief moment, shuts his eyes, continuing to focus. As he opens them, he controls his breathing, relaxes himself, almost putting himself in a sort of trance. He has retained his edge. He unleashes the sling, sending the ball hurtling towards Dante.

  The ball finds its mark, smashing into Dante’s kneecap with massive force. Dante cries out in excruciating pain, tries to take a step with his leg, finds that he is unable and that when he does, he is met with resistance.

  As Cammilia comes to his aid, he receives a vision from her, a fleeting one but unmistakable. It is a brief vision of his adversary-Maximus.

  “What is it, Dante?” asks Veranimus, pleadingly, as if the mention of the injury will mitigate the seriousness of it.

  “It’s his kneecap. Can’t you tell?” asks Sirico.

  “Do I look imbecilic? Was I bred the other day? I know it’s his kneecap. But what happened to it?”

  “Someone hit me with a sling. I know who it was. It was Maximus,” replies Dante adamantly.

  “Perhaps it was a wild shot. Do you ken?” asks Sirico, hoping to find another plausible cause other than sabotage.

  “What do we do?” asks Jesse desperately. “You are the lead.”

  Despite being in excruciating pain, a smile begins to break out on Dante’s face. “We improvise, of course.” Though the other boys are dumbfounded, Cammilia seems to understand. She wags her tail and barks triumphantly, while the others in the group appear nonplussed.

  Maximus has no doubt that Dante’s group will do their best to continue with the contest. They will inevitably make a good show and find more badgers but at a much slower pace. He is confident that he can now overtake their group and the lead. He walks back to his group with a menacing and arrogant gait, barking out orders to the other boys.

  Phates nose alerts them to another badger and they follow her lead. Once they find the badger, they proceed to kill it with Maximus’ guidance. Him and his team relentlessly pursue and kill seven more badgers- blue, canary-yellow, brown, Gemini and orange.

  Throughout his pursuit, it had never occurred to Maximus that Dante’s color maroon is never to be found. And he had never encountered his own color-burgundy.

  When the final gun is sounded, indicating the games are over, Maximus walks back to the starting point, confident that his worries are over. There is no way anyone else could have captured more badgers than his group, especially with Dante’s incapacitation.

  As he walks back, he observes Dante’s group with what looks like approximately eight to ten badger pelts on their sticks. He grows worried. That was about what his team had caught. But something else he observes sets his mind on edge and causes a churning in the pit of his stomach. Dante was not at the mercy of his injury, being carried by his group in some makeshift splint, which surely would have set them back in time and the number of badgers.

  Maximus had underestimated Dante’s ability to improvise. Instead of being carried by his group, he is riding Cammilia on her back. He had not considered this. As their group approaches him, they glare at him with baleful expressions, aware of his act of sabotage. Even Cammilia emits a growl in response. Phates, in turn, growls at Cammilia and for a moment, their eyes lock in a spark of malicious intent.

  “Cammilia, heel,” orders Dante.

  “Heel, Phates,” commands Maximus.

  As Dante’s group approaches Dottore, Germanicus observes that Dante is badly limping, favoring his right leg. Germanicus also observes that the boys had constructed some makeshift splint to support his leg in a straight position. He is riding Cammilia, so he did not slow down the group. Germanicus could only imagine the excruciating pain he must have been in; and yet he toiled on.

  “What say you runt? What happened?” asks Dottore.

  “It is my knee, the kneecap broken in half. I can feel it.”

  “How did it happen?”

  Without hesitation, Dante answers. “A wild shot from a sling made me an unlucky target. Now I am worse for wear.”

  “Can you hold out for a little while longer?”

  “Ai.”

  Germanicus holds up his hand in an attempt to hush the boys, who are still infected with the boisterous energy from their hunt. After a couple of seconds, the boys comply with his hand gesture. “Well done runts. We are well met.”

  The boys respond in unison. “As are we Dottore!”

  “Leaders, please step up and present your badger pelts.”

  The leaders of the groups comply. Dante steps off Cammilia gingerly, the pain pulsating throughout his leg with every painstaking movement. He limps up to the front and hands his stick of badgers to Atticus.

  “Now runts, if you remember the rules of the game, you will remember that the object was not only to hunt the largest number of badgers but also to protect your own insignia colors. So, the winner will be decided
first, by how many badger pelts you collected and also, how many of your own colors you protected. For any group not protecting any of their own colors, you will immediately be disqualified.”

  A lump seems to form in Maximus’ throat and he is unable to swallow for a moment. So consumed was he with sabotaging Dante’s group that he had forgotten a strategy for preserving his own colors. Perhaps he will get lucky, but something tells him luck will have nothing to do with it.

  Maximus presents his own kill to Atticus for counting. His team had killed 12 badgers, the largest number of the group so far. Dante’s group had managed to kill 10, even with Dante’s injuries. The brown and yellow team had collected 9. The burgundy team had collected only 6 pelts but had managed to retain half their number of badgers.

  The number of badgers that had been preserved by each team is counted. Dante’s team had managed to preserve all his own badgers, except two, in addition to capturing 10 of the other teams.

  Maximus’ group had caught the largest number of pelts, but they had not managed to save even one of their own colors, disqualifying them in the race.

  Germanicus stands up with Dante at the front of the group. Every time he puts weight on his foot, it sends shock waves of pain down his knee. Cammilia nudges up against him in an attempt to brace him. “I declare Dante’s group the winner. They have captured the largest number and preserved the largest number of their own colors.”

  The other boys clap boisterously, while many pat Dante on the back.

  “All hail Dante!” exclaim the group. Maximus does not join them. Instead, he crosses his arms and stares at Dante with a contemptuous sneer.

  “I further declare that Dante’s group, the blue team has won the right of immunity. Not him or anyone else from his group can be eliminated from this school until the challenge of Ostra Feigna in six weeks. Prepare yourselves boys. This will be a test which will push all of you to your limits.’’