by Peter John
Sighing inwardly I turned and faced the crowd and bowed deeply. Giving myself time to recover.
The Orcs applauded politely, some still snickering, and I surprised them all when I addressed them in a loud and clear voice.
“It is a great honor for our people to be trained by such renowned warriors as the Orc nation. From the bottom of my heart I thank you and look forward to progressing in my abilities to cause more pain to the Reapers.”
This seemed to cheer them up, and they began to applaud. Raúl gave a mighty whoop and suddenly everyone was whooping and applauding. These were bawdy folk, who didn’t sit on ceremony for long.
Lord Groggar was smiling now and silenced the crowd with a wave of his hands.
“These humans need to train and we need to train them. Let it be done!”
He then clapped his hands twice and the group of Orcs moved from their seating to encircle the center area completely. Two stepped out and bowed in front of Raúl, which he returned, then he summoned his saber and began to defend himself from their attacks rigorously. Swirls of dark magic pulsed from them from time to time towards him, and each time he deflected, pivoted or evaded. While I was standing watching, J.B. sidled up to me and passed me two books.
“These are for you Colonel, read them when you are able, you will need them.” With that, he made to leave, but I called out to him “Wait I want to thank Horatio for his gifts, where is he?”
“Prince Horatio is a busy man and was unable to meet with you this time, but don’t worry Lord Groggar is a most capable instructor and one of the fiercest warriors on Illuminous. He stands by the Covenant and will honor his duties. Respect them, Petros, they are fearsome warriors. I will meet with you again to discuss some pertinent matters before you leave.”
“Wait…” I replied, but he was gone into the swirling mass of orcs surrounding us. They stamped their feet rhythmically as the battle between Raúl and the two Orcs build to a crescendo. Raúl was being handed his arse, but occasionally he would get in one or two good blows. Unfortunately for him, for every one or two he landed, they landed four or five vital strikes. It was a very unfair battle. I pressed forward, dispelled the books into my ring and summoned my staff.
I could see it was a non-lethal battle so I would have to curb my killer instincts, but that only added to the challenge. I swung my staff low and swept the one orcs feet out from under him. Okay, it was a blindside strike, but they were two on one. I wanted to even the odds.
“I was wondering when you would join.” panted Raúl as I moved in next to him.
“I didn’t know it was a group effort,” I shouted back.
“From now on Armpit, everything is a group effort.” Raúl gasped in pain then as one of the dark shadows seemed to grab his shoulder and wrench him down to the ground. I swept my staff out again to keep the two orc fighters at bay while Raúl recovered.
“What are the rules?” I asked as Raúl gained his feet and unsteadily stood back to back with me.
“No rules besides no killing strokes, also you can’t dismember anyone.”
“Great to know, but how do you prevent that using a sword?”
“Skill!” was Raúl’s grunted reply as he parried a blow aimed at his knee, “You can break their bones, slice them to incapacity, but you forfeit the match if you chop off even one finger or magically burn anyone to cinders.”
“Alrighty then!” I replied in my best Jim Carey voice and proceeded to block, parry and reposte as best I could with the staff. It was definitely a superior weapon under the circumstances, allowing me to block and reposte in almost the same instant. With two of us going at it, it was a lot easier for Raúl and we soon began to wear down our opponents, who then swapped out for another two. This carried on for some time, and my stamina was flagging. One-to-one the orcs were civilized compared to the Reapers we had faced in training and clearly we were the superior sparing pair, so by swapping back and forth, with a new pair moving in when the current pair started flagging, it kept up the intensity and pushed us beyond our limits.
We were SEALS, it didn’t matter how many they sent at us, we would fight until we couldn’t fight anymore.
At some stage the orc who I had floored with my entrance to the fight did a flying leap to return to the fight, I guess he was holding a grudge and his overhand strike coming down towards my head at an alarming rate caught me by surprise. I didn’t think I could get out the way without endangering Raúl behind me so I rammed the staff point directly into his midsection as if I was using a spear. The Orcs already bulging eyes seemed to pop from their sockets, his tongue protruded and his body sagged around the end of the staff as he came to an abrupt and resounding stop with an “Ooooph!”, my staff hit him cleanly and solidly in the midsection. I extended my will through the staff and pushed, opening my ways to enable the inner spell to direct him back the way he had come. The throaty oomph sound that wheezed out his mouth almost made his tongue do a raspberry. It was then that I saw the protruding tongue get snapped clean off when his teeth crashed together from the impact and it danced in the air like a pink salmon jumping out of a lake onto the ground beside me.
A scarlet dash of blood the last thing I saw of his mouth as the tongues owner disappeared over the crowd into the distance to the jubilant cheers and cries of alarm of his brothers-in-arms.
A sudden throaty roar shouted “STOP!” and everyone froze in their tracks. I was really grateful for the breather.
“Oh shit, what did you do?” was Raúl’s anguished panting question as he stared down at the still spasming tongue on the ground.
“Nothing, he bit his own tongue off. I did nothing!” I replied innocently.” A very large and fit looking Orc stood looking down at the dying pink tongue, then looked at me with what can only be described as pure malice. I willed away my staff and presented my hands placatingly.
“I didn’t do it, I have no blade, he bit his own tongue off,” I said, hoping he was a reasonable sort. Unfortunately, that kind of hoping in these circumstances was like winning the lottery. It never happens. A group of Orcs moved in suddenly and grabbed Raúl and manhandled him out of the ring, leaving me and the nasty and very competent looking Orc alone.
The big fellow drew two blades and charged and I got the feeling that all bets were off. I summoned my Katana this time and against his two blades was sorely pressed. He kept nicking me with one of his blades, a small cut here, a little slice there and each one was beginning to add up to a plethora of pain, not to mention the little tributaries of blood that began to flow freely from all the cuts. It wasn’t that he could get through my defenses completely, and I had many chances to dismember him. I held back however, and tried to apply the same tactic as he was using. Death by a thousand cuts. He was way ahead before I had the presence of mind to apply the same tactic.
I had lost and was losing a lot of blood. My stamina was low, and I was only holding on barely. The latest cut above my brow was causing blood to flow into my left eye and the wily Orc was attacking me from that side, knowing my vision was obscured. Raúl had been manhandled away from the start of this confrontation and could not join in. I could feel the inner fire building and I had to struggle to keep it contained. If I unleashed it, this Orc would become my next victim, and I was already being punished for a rule that I did not technically break. It was unfair, and I wanted, no, I desperately needed a rest.
Utter madness was what this was. How could these Orc’s expect me to prevent what happened? I hadn’t meant for the guy to bite off his tongue. Hell, I didn’t even want to be fighting them. I was here for training my mind, not using brute force to win. It was then that I realized that that is exactly what I needed to do. Use my mind. I hadn’t used a magical barrier yet, but it was difficult to do with the distraction of having to concentrate on the fight.
Over the previous Sims I had learned that as a mage, it was important to be attuned and focused before fighting in order to summon magical abilities, and with this sudden e
scalation, I had not even considered using those skills yet. Add to that, if I conjured a barrier or similar process, it was akin to a very large drain on my system. The Mana would deplete like a fuel gauge in a 1966 Chevrolet Camaro.
Once the tank was empty, my magical abilities would be next to worthless. I had also discovered that conjuring something finite and concrete like a shirt, pants etc was a lot less draining than making a force barrier with no clearly defined construction principles. Finite articles that were conjured into existence were much easier and would not deplete my Mana further, whereas a barrier was ever changing and had to conform to my moving body, while remaining impervious to foreign bodies trying to penetrate it, and thus remained linked to my Mana pool, siphoning off as needed.
Hoping it wasn’t too late, I began to block only, allowing him to press the attack. My movements were still smooth, but not nearly as aggressive as I had been earlier. With his two blades free to swing at me without concern of retaliation, the large Orc began to get bolder and bolder, making his swings and stabs more frequent and thus forcing me to stay in this defensive mode. Blocking and parrying for all that I was worth. How long this went on for I could not tell you, only that I was so ingrained in the flow of the movements that time seemed to stand still. He was wearing me down, my stamina was depleting. His sword skills ability matched my own, if not surpassed it and with two swords he had the advantage.
I had seen his pattern though and knew that he would strike once, then twice on my right before a jab and sweep of his blade on my left where my vision was obscured. It was the third time he would do it. The last two times I had barely kept his blade away on the sweep and I could see his grim determination as he envisioned slicing into my chest to teach me a well-deserved lesson. He was fixated on it, hurrying his left strikes to make me commit even more fully to my right side so that when I corrected to defend on my left, I might overbalance or overextend. He did not expect what happened next.
A few years ago, I had designed my own practice dummy that could take the abuse of sword swipes and strikes. I trained diligently with my Katana in an effort to keep fit and to further my own abilities in Kenjutsu, the Japanese term which means the art of the sword. Because my Katana was a master-crafted sword, wrought of immense skill, the blade was exceptionally sharp and strong from the many hundreds of folds and welds it had undergone in the forging process. The subsequent polishing taking over three weeks was something I had immersed myself in under the tutelage of the Master who had made the blade for me. It had cost a trip to Japan, hence a lot of money, time and care but in the end, it had been worth it.
Knowing of the blade's sharpness, I was curious to learn its limitations, but at the same time wanted to limit the damage to the sword as it was irreplaceable. So I had fashioned a man-sized dummy to practice on and had explored with different materials to see which could best hold up to the sword strikes while still keeping the sword edge from dulling or chipping. What I had found was a product called Sorbothane. It was more elastic than rubber and absorbed around 95% of all mechanical shock impacts but still had good memory of its original form. I had made the dummy with a thick Sorbothane outer layer and three years later; The dummy was still going strong, albeit somewhat sliced up. That had been before my abduction.
Now as I concentrated, having taken the time during my defending to focus my mind, I conjured a thick cast of Sorbothane and rubber compound to surround my left arm as if I had a Plaster of Paris cast for a broken wrist. The drain of Mana was intense but manageable.
Then I used my now buffed and padded left hand and wrist to intercept his attack at the very point where he was too committed to withdraw. The blade he carried also had a keen edge, and it sunk into the cast with a dull thunk. The full force of his swing being absorbed left only the sharpness of his blade to separate the material, and I hoped I had conjured enough material to capture his blade completely. The best part of the two-inch thick material is its ability to cling onto whatever had pierced or sliced into it, so when the Orc realized what I had done, he immediately tried to retract his blade pulling me towards him.
As a good duel-wielding swordsman should do, he placed his second blade in a position to impale me as I came forward. Expecting this and now only having to worry about one active sword, I deflected his point, stepped inside his guard and then using the pommel of my Katana struck him on the temple as hard as I could.
The impact contained a lot of my pent up fury and probably a lot of the inner energy I had been building up.
The surprised look and then the rolling back of his eyes as he collapsed at my feet left a feeling of satisfaction that I probably should not have felt so keenly.
Coming out of the trance of the fight, I heard not a whisper. It was totally silent around me. Everyone just stared at me. Some with grudging respect reflected in their eyes, others with disdain and incredulity. I stood there panting, blood pitter pattering onto the naked earth from my many cuts and the unconscious Orc warrior at my feet, his sword still embedded in the Sorbothane cast I had conjured. Then someone started to stamp his feet rhythmically. It started slowly at first then built in tempo and volume as more and more of the Orcs joined in. The wave of applause crashed over me, leaving me both exultant and euphoric. I just smiled in triumph and looked around for Raúl.
Instead of finding Raúl, I saw Lord Groggar making his way through the crowd. He appeared to be smiling, but it was hard to be sure.
“Congratulations Colonel, I name you Tongue Taker!” He bellowed, grabbing my free hand and holding it aloft like a boxer who had won a title fight. “You now have a title worthy to be amongst us!”
The Orcs began to chant “Tongue Taker! Tongue Taker!” and I received many pats on the back and jovial bows of appreciation.
“Come, we have trained, and we have learned, now let us eat, but beware of Tongue Taker or you shall go hungry tonight.”
Lord Groggar’s words were met with hearty laughter and I felt Raúl come up next to me smiling broadly, as everyone seemed to walk towards the village. The unconscious orc was only now coming around and several of his buddies were helping him to his feet. I later learned that the Orc who had lost his tongue had been taken back to the village where the Shaman would tend to him.
The Orc who had faced me in the solo fight was one of their Champions from the Elite Guard and that I had bested him was no mean feat.
We then made our way to the village as a long strung out group and several times I had to stop to rest. Most of my cuts had stopped bleeding, with only a few still oozing blood. I had dispelled the wrist-caste and Katana, leaving me free to attempt staving the blood flow from several of the deeper cuts. The movements of my body unfortunately prevented them from clotting. I definitely felt weaker at the loss of blood and wished that Raúl had an affinity for healing. It was one thing knowing how to heal others with magic but without the requisite spell, healing oneself was just not possible.
My last stop as we crested a rise gave me a complete view of the village where it nestled below. Huddled in the curve of this high valley up on the escarpment. It was typical of a village, maybe about fifty huts, with the larger and more stylish ones being on higher ground with pathways interspersed to all the huts spread out below along the expanse of the hillside.
A stream ran directly through the village, entering through the wall and meandering through with various canals tapping off towards the various homesteads. There was a small waterfall alongside what appeared to be the largest building. It was most likely a community hall or similar structure by its appearance. The entire village area was walled in with a mound of rocks loosely packed atop one another except for a more solid structure at the entrance and exit of the stream. The wall had guard posts every hundred meters or so as it meandered around the village. At the lowest part of the village was an enclosure that seemed to contain some herds of different beasts. Maybe goats or pigs? I wasn’t sure from this distance.
It was getting towards late e
vening and the setting sun was casting its last rays of light onto the tops of the escarpment where we were standing. The gloomy surge of night mere moments away. One of Lord Groggar’s lieutenants encouraged me to hurry up and keep walking with the main party. He said it was unwise to be out alone after dark reeking of blood.
I wondered to myself once again what the races of Illuminous had to fear. They seemed to all be martial races, with strong military inclinations. According to Prince Horatio, they all abided by some kind of collective covenant that bound them to protecting gems of immense power. The power that was used to forge them to this place, this plane, this world. Why were we as humans the go-between them and their enemy? Why would we be better suited to face the threat on their behalf and yet they still maintained military units and forces? It was something I would have to find out. Before I did, I would have to get healed and learn as much as I could from these people.
CHAPTER 22
Shaman Bab
The Orcs guided us to a hut near the outskirts of the village, close to the wall, but within its protective embrace. It appeared to be an unused resting house for the guards. Raúl told me this was where he had stayed the last time he trained here and that they would require us to attend a banquet of welcome before training would continue the following morning. Regarding my healing, he said a Shaman would come around sometime soon to attend to me. In the meantime, I should clean up and refresh myself with a bucket using the aqueduct channel out in the yard behind the hut.
