Lycenea

by Rory D Nelson

  If the circumstances had only been reversed, Germanicus had no doubt that it could be him on the other side of that table now. Germanicus would never have trusted anyone else to perform such a task. The boy’s life was at stake and the forty men that Barnabeus had chosen were the hand-picked elite. Though none of them were Brethren, they were the closest thing to it.

  “Though you are not one of my Brethren Barnabeus, I’ve no doubt that you will fulfill this important duty for me. For it is of paramount importance. If something were to happen to the child, in my eyes, I know I could never redeem myself for the shortcoming. Set watch and warrant this when I tell you it is the most important task of your life so far; perhaps it is the most important task you shall ever bear. Do you ken, old guard?”

  Barnabeus nods gravely. “Ai, Germanicus. Indebted to you always I am. Consider task as good as done. As you well know, I have hand-picked these men to serve this task. Set watch and warrant it so, you have a word of dedicated Countryman; the boy will be safe. Ten of my men will serve as scouts along the journey to New Camelot. Menelaeus knows well the magnitude of the boy’s life and he will protect him as his own.”

  Germanicus nods. “Ai. We are well met. Always been such. You ken?”

  Barnabeus nods.

  “I’ve no doubt that Menelaeus will protect the boy at all costs, but he is not to feel like a prisoner in his own home. At least give him the illusion of freedom, though his life will be far from it. Cammilia, his guardian, will accompany him and her role to remain unchanged. Do you ken?”

  “Ai, Brother. I ken well.”

  Germanicus nods. “Well then, let us retrieve him and prepare him for a hard journey. Consider me forever in your debt when the deed is safely done.”

  Germanicus and Barnabeus walk out of his study and into the infirmary. The door is open and they observe Merlin with Dante. They are both confused by what they are seeing and eye each other with the same look of consternation. Dante is not only walking but he is kicking as well.

  Merlin holds a large, thick cypress placard up to Dante as he kicks into it with deadly force, snapping the wood through and causing it to splinter. Germanicus looks at Merlin and speaks, hesitatingly. “We have come for the boy, Merlin. He is to be taken to the King and will be under his protection.”

  “To what purpose?”

  “Because he cannot compete in his final bout,” responds Germanicus acidly.

  “He can compete in his final bout, so these arrangements are no longer necessary,” replies Merlin matter of fact.

  “The boy has broken his femur, and being less than full-bodied, he must forfeit his final round and be removed from the program. We spoke of this,” says Germanicus curtly.

  Merlin turns to Germanicus. “Ai, we did. I had not the time to fully diagnose him. It was not a broken femur. It was only a fracture, a hairline one at most. The boy has recovered fully. Set watch and observe the boy in action.”

  Germanicus looks exasperated. Merlin shrugs. “I was wrong in my initial assessment.”

  Germanicus turns to Barnabeus. “I cry pardon, Barnabeus. May we have a word?”

  Barnabeus nods. “Ai.” He turns and leaves.

  Merlin turns to Dante. “You may take a short recess. Take Cammilia and pray before the final bout, young Sai.”

  “Ai, Merlin.” He turns towards Germanicus and nods. “Dottore.” Germanicus excuses him with a wave of his hand. Dante walks off, without the slightest limp or sign of injury - as if it never happened.

  “What trickery is this you have perpetrated, Brother?” asks Germanicus accusingly.

  “No trickery. I have explained myself. I was wrong in my initial assessment. Do you not ken?”

  “I do not. I was there and heard the snap of a large bone as it broke. Without your trickery, I ken that he would not be able to walk yet,” says Germanicus through clenched teeth.

  “You have been hiding him away here, hoping I would not discover your sorcery?” asks Germanicus.

  “His injuries were serious but not grave. He has completed his academia and resting. By our dictate, he is allowed to take a small leave of absence from bouts. Well within the confines of our Code, which you wish to remind me of as often as possible.”

  “The only way he could have made such recovery in such little time is if you had resorted to your mischief. I should report you to the council. You have violated our oath.” Germanicus turns to leave.

  “And what proof do you have, Brother? None but your suspicions. You will seek out council and you will have nothing. You wish to create a rift between us over this? Our common enemy is our there even now and you would seek to alienate yourself. We need to stay united.”

  “And you are diverting. You have violated our oath!” shouts Germanicus vehemently. He takes a deep breath and calms himself. “I had arranged the most secure envoy for him. With Menelaeus as his guardian, he would have been protected.”

  “If he had safely made it inside Capital walls,” points out Merlin.

  “Barnabeus was nearly one of us.”

  “Nearly,” retorts Merlin.

  “He came well-fortified. I had no doubt of his abilities.”

  “Our interloper is always watching, Germanicus. This would have been all the excuse he needed to strike. It is not far from the Capital, but with him out there, it is a world away. You know full well the boy is safer with us. Search heart and warrant it so.”

  “I have upheld our Code and done what I must. By our doctrines. You have interfered and broken sworn oath out of pity.”

  “I have done what I must also. If you find fault, take it up with Council. Go there with your suspicions and see how you advance in your claims. I swear you will not find a sympathetic ear.”

  Merlin and Germanicus square off in a stalemate, staring at each other intently. Neither acquiesces. “What will you do Brother? Support me. Search heart and know this was the way.”

  “Another one of our doctrines is that the means never justify the end. Do you not ken? You broke our code and you cannot justify that. There was another way but you did not work to find a solution with me. This conversation is far from over, Brother.”

  Germanicus walks off, exasperated. “And I will always be here, Brother, should you wish to revisit the topic,” states Merlin defiantly.

  (2)

  The nightmares seem to abate and Maximus awakes for the first time in nearly two weeks feeling invigorated. Though his classmates are still cold towards him, he is not deterred in the least. He has won immunity and is unable to be eliminated as a recruit. With Dante out of the picture, he is poised to retain the position of leadership.

  Phates greets him after he washes his face and hands. He returns the greeting with the same amount of enthusiasm she musters, reveling in his bright future. He makes his bed, making sure to make the corners as tight as possible. He shuts the door and walks out to the gymnasium and his hopes are dashed, hitting him like a brick wall in the face. Dante is there, not only walking on his own but walking with the litheness of the best of the recruits.

  He spars with the recruits, jumping up from the floor and landing on his two feet from his back. There is no indication that he received a deleterious blow only a few weeks ago. He seems to notice Maximus and turns his head towards him and then gives him a sardonic gleam.

  What is even more appalling is the fact that the other recruits seem to be drawn to the boy, as if he possesses some magnetism. They seem to adore him, much like they used to adore him. Maximus clenches up his fists, staring hard at the source of his pain-Dante. Dante seems to enjoy and revel in the moment thanks in part to the adoration of the recruits and the discomfort of Maximus.

  Maximus holds his ground. Phates lowers his head affectionately into his hands. Maximus is oblivious. After several minutes of enjoying the newfound comradery, he ventures over to Maximus, with Cammilia at his side.

  “How fareth, young Sai?”

  “Well met we are,” replies Maximus slowly, findin
g it nearly impossible to find the words.

  “Congratulations on your win and immunity. I will try and win it back.” Dante holds out his hand. “We are well met and well-matched. Look forward to the next one.” Dante holds out his hand in a gesture of goodwill. Maximus looks at it and hesitates for a few seconds. He then shakes his hand, hoping the gesture will not go unnoticed by the other recruits.

  “Good luck to you, comp,” says Dante.

  “And you,” responds Maximus.

  Dottore walks up to the middle of the gymnasium to begin the final round of bouts.

  “How fareth, young recruits? Are you prepared for the final round of sparring bouts and the last chance to obtain immunity before Primera Docturna?” asks Dottore.

  “Ai!” responds the recruits.

  “Congratulations to Jericho and Maximus on obtaining immunity.” Several recruits look to Jericho and some even clap him on the back. He is uncomfortable with the adoration and shyly turns his head away. No one moves to congratulate Maximus. No one even looks at him.

  “Choose your assaults carefully. They may come back to haunt you before the bout is over.” Several recruits nod and murmur in assent.

  “Come on to the floor. Are you ready?”

  “Ai, Dottore!” yell the recruits, many of them still with bruised and battered faces from the previous games.

  Dottore holds a white and orange flag out before him and drops it at the moment he yells, “Begin!”

  The recruits begin the bout with as much vigor as they can muster. Some are a little over-zealous, throwing premature punches before they have properly squared off against their opponents. As a result, they leave themselves vulnerable to a devastating punch. In less than thirty seconds, several of the boys are down for the account.

  Alexander is one of those boys and when he lashes out at Maximus immediately, telegraphing his blow, Maximus sees it coming and defends himself accordingly. As Alexander lunges at him with a fierce roundhouse punch, Maximus sidesteps and then launches his own jab, catching Alexander on the chin and ending his bout for good. He is knocked unconscious and barely registers it until he resumes consciousness.

  Dante’s first opponent Terranamus, is equally as overzealous, launching himself at Dante haphazardly with a roundhouse kick. Dante senses it coming well ahead of its launch and sidesteps and then throws a quick jab, which catches Terranamus off balance. He slips and he does, Dante capitalizes on it, sending a swift kick to his head and catching him on the chin. He drops to the ground, unconscious.

  Maximus squares off against Luke. The menacing wit in his eyes tells him that he will not be an easy prey. Luke will not launch himself out at Maximus so recklessly. He approaches him and kicks him swiftly on the side several times. Maximus sidesteps. He launches another devastating kick and Maximus is unable to sidestep and hunches down with his body tight, absorbing the kick.

  Luke inches closer towards Maximus and throws several quick jabs, which Maximus deflects. He sends out some of his own punches, which are blocked as well. He waits for the right moment when Luke makes himself vulnerable.

  Luke comes in with a mighty roundhouse punch but telegraphs slightly. Maximus sees it coming and launches a powerful uppercut, catching him in the eye and causing a small laceration to appear. Blood seeps out and dazes him, but it is not the knockout blow he had hoped.

  Luke re-stabilizes himself and comes in low on Maximus, trying to catch him off balance. Maximus is not so easily caught off balance. He jabs, moves and re-directs his own punches, which are sharp and devastating but fail to land in the most vulnerable areas. Luke sidesteps, pivots and front kicks hard. Maximus barely deflects it in time. As he does, he feels a sharp, agonizing pain in his back and coughs in response. He turns around to face the new opponent and as he does, Luke creeps up on him and blindsides him with a devastating uppercut he failed to see. It catches him on the chin and he drops to the ground, unconscious.

  Luke and Jericho exchange a conspiratorial nod and square off against each other. Though it was not how they would have preferred to do things, they were well within the rules of combat. What Maximus had done to Dante was dishonorable. Dante would have won the match and immunity. In their eyes, it is just recompense.

  As Luke approaches Jericho, Jericho closes the distance himself and lashes out with a devastating front kick, knocking Luke back a couple of feet. He is barely able to put up his hands in a defensive posture before he feels the brunt of the force. Instead of back-tracking like Jericho would have preferred, he stands his ground and forces Jericho to come to him.

  As he approaches, Luke jabs quickly and moves, jabs and moves, hoping to find a vulnerable spot. Jericho pivots, lashes out with a powerful uppercut, catching Luke on the same eye that Maximus had clipped. The laceration is cut deeply and the vision in that eye begins to get fuzzy.

  Luke crouches down low and lunges out at Jericho, hoping to catch him by surprise. It doesn’t. Jericho is ready for the maneuver and deflects the powerful uppercut Luke throws at him and counters with a jab to his body, catching him in the chest.

  Jericho moves and jabs with deliberate menace, knowing where Luke is weak, where his vision is fuzzy. He moves and then whips out a jab with reckless force. One blow lands in the pit of Luke’s stomach, causing him to cry out in pain and surprise. He lets down his defense for a split second and Jericho capitalizes on it. He sidesteps and throws a lightning quick uppercut, connecting perfectly with his chin. He drops to the floor and fades to incapacitation.

  When Luke crashes to the ground, he looks up to find that there is only one opponent left-Dante. Dante is standing there, waiting for him. He is too honorable to try and blindside Jericho. Jericho feels the redness of shame on his cheeks and goes out to meet his remaining foe.

  “Only two opponents remain. For immunity boys, finish the fight!” orders Dottore.

  Jericho approaches Dante and bows. Dante nodded back. It is still a little disconcerting to Jericho that although the boy is blind, he manages to pick up on the nuances in the air and can feel the slightest of gestures. He knows that Merlin can do the same, but to have to fight someone with such a sense is disconcerting.

  If he is a little frightened, it will only behoove him, sharpening his focus and forcing him to be on his guard at all times. He cannot take chances with this one. He crouches down low and jabs quickly to try and get a baseline of his opponent’s weaknesses, if any.

  Dante crouches down low as well and deflects each blow easily. When he is ready, he fires off one of his own blows, a perfect jab completely un-telegraphed. It is textbook perfect. He jabs and moves, jabs and moves, slowly picking up the power with each consecutive punch. Jericho is forced to match him and deflect his blows. With each punch thrown, it becomes harder and harder for him to deflect.

  In the last series of punches, he is barely able to deflect them. One of the punches gets through and strikes his chest. Dante seems to be toying with him, preparing him for the moment when he will unleash himself fully.

  Jericho lashes out with a series of lightning quick uppercuts. Despite their ferocity, they are no match for Dante’s reflexes, which seemed to have increased after his devastating injury. He is determined. Jericho throws a series of lightning quick jabs at Dante, hoping to catch him off balance, but the only thing it proves to do is to wind himself. He breathes harder and harder.

  He tries desperately to launch himself at Dante, but the move born out of desperation has no chance with such a skilled fighter. Dante senses it coming and reacts. He sidesteps, crouches down and then jabs hard at Jericho, hitting him squarely in the stomach, causing him to cry out in agony.

  Instead of coming in for the decisive blow, Dante allows Jericho to re-center himself. Jericho secretly wishes that Dante had finished him off, if nothing more than to end the pain burgeoning throughout his body.

  Jericho makes one last ditch attempt to knock Dante off balance with a roundhouse punch. Dante is more than prepared. He feels the punch being
launched and crouches down low at the last possible second, sweeping his foot as he does so, knocking Jericho off his feet.

  Before he falls to the ground, Dante grabs on to him and drives up his knee several times into his stomach and hears the sickening sound of breaking ribs and then he lets Jericho down to the ground.

  He then comes in for the final knockout punch. Frightened and in agonizing pain, Jericho holds up two fingers in submission. “Stop!” He yells. “You won!”

  Dante stops, nods and bows to Jericho. “We were well met, Sai. It was an honor.”

  He then helps up Jericho. Dottore walks up to the middle of the gymnasium and holds up Dante’s hand. “Match. Dante has won this bout and immunity for himself. You have all performed admirably, runts. You should be proud. You have honored your family’s name today. All of you. Without exception.” Maximus averts his gaze from Dottore, ashamed but thankful Dottore did not call him out.

  Dottore looks around at all the recruits and the injuries they had all sustained in the bout. One boy had fractured his cheekbone. Others had nearly fractured their shins, sprained ankles and fractured bones in their hands. None of the injuries, luckily, were career ending like the one Dante had sustained. With Merlin’s expertise and primordial jelly, they would recover fully in less than a week.

  Dottore laughs and nods appreciatively. “It appears that Merlin will have his work cut out for him today. See to the infirmary and then meet me in the mess hall at zero eight hundred hours, runts.”

  “Ai, Dottore,” respond the recruits.

  Maximus doesn’t even register a response. He still tries to shake off the vestiges of grogginess and disorientation from being knocked unconscious. And he is seething. He had alienated himself with the sneaky blow to Dante and had lost the final bout.