Malcor's Story
Page 15
He went on to explain how training for and serving in Bloodstone takes the place for most knights of the second rite. “For ease of discussion, lets call these rites what they are - phases. There is the trial of fear and pain with a dragon; because the Queen can heal you, you must learn that there is no pain, not even unto death, that you should fear. While the loss of your arm, should it be cut off, will hurt, part of being a paladin is overriding the pain and functioning anyway. Her power can regenerate your lost arm, or limb. On that note, only decapitation cannot be healed normally. Resurrection handles that and other more extreme deaths. Just remember, you can only be resurrected so many times, so try to avoid death okay?”
Tembri’s trial of pain of involved working in a stone quarry without food, water, or healing. “First, I died of thirst struggling through the lack of water. Then they healed me but did not give me water for days and then weeks till I died of hunger. They kept healing me until starvation rather than thirst took me. My skin wore away to my bones. Without nutrition and care and surrounded by other first rite initiates, we fell prey to disease. I began to dread the healing because it brought back pain.
“We failed to quarry any stones worth anything, but I learned that pain from thirst, hunger, and disease is much worse than the types of wounds suffered in combat. When the trial ended and I regenerated, I found that knives, fire, destructive magic did not phase me at all. It took almost two months to feel normal. Your friend Calvin will have something like that though abbreviated and much less so.
"For battle priests, we have to be ready to heal you even knowing how much pain you might suffer because of it. Trust me, it's harder than it might seem to heal someone when you know they're just going to die again. For you though? There isn’t time. It’ll be something else.”
Ora added, “He'll be multifixed, essentially." She squeezed his hand and tried to sound reassuring. "Healing someone over and over on the brink of death is beyond belief Mal. I'd heard about the Order of Water being harder, but not this. You experienced it a bit when you died on the mountain yesterday. But,” she looked at Tembri, “there are other ways to create pain. I wonder.” She grew a bit downcast and grim as she thought and then said, “You’ll be spirit wracked. That has to be it. The problem here is that you know. You know that you’ll be okay. With you Tembri, it took so long because you had to move beyond hope of relief until you not only stopped fearing it, but stopped noticing it. New initiates in the other orders often take the Temple and healing for granted. The Order of Water though trains to not take relief and healing for granted; it is always life and death. Malcor, you have a battle priest. Your experience with the Temple is somewhat limited and Tembri isn’t exactly thumping his chest and bragging. So let me…
“In any other order, Tembri would be a Dar rank priest. Already. He is also a veteran of Bloodstone. The fatality rate in Bloodstone amongst priests and priestesses in combat is two-thirds. The surviving are offered positions within the knight orders. It takes a special candidate to be accepted into the knighthood, let alone the Order of Water. When you look at Tembri and the other battle priests, you should see yourself. Prodigies who beat the odds and bring with them special gifts and talents, along with a singular determination to overcome the odds.
“Consider also the number of battle priests in this order. Most other orders are lucky to have a small handful. The Order of Water though has them because they are needed. By the time you reach R’Dar rank Malcor, Tembri will most likely have two or three other battle priests supporting you. By contrast, the Shield Order your friend joined, has only two battle priests in the entire Order.”
She took a drink and in the silence, Tembri spoke. “I wanted to be a knight. I went into my Aging Ceremony to request it. The priestess there, without even asking me what I wanted, told me to be a priest.” He laughed. “I told her she was crazy and for that, she slapped me down. The odd thing though, I saw it happening and moved… through the River. The next thing I knew, a member of the Order of Water, sent by Dar Kendra, stepped forward and offered me a position. Well, there had been a lot of conditions on that offer. My training as a knight stalled during preparation for the first rite. I stubbornly continued though and only during the second rite did I realize that priestess had been correct. I should have started as a priest.” He laughed again.
“I will be spirit wracked or worse,” Mal pondered. “I was often burned in my work at the forge. I got past it without magical healing. In Klenna, magical and divine healing are considered miraculous and rare events when they occurred. You both seem so casual about it. I can do it. If She says to kill the lich, then she will give me the pathway to the lich’s destruction. What else?”
They explained and discussed that as part of the rite of pain, “You’ll be taught a combat technique. You’ll spar at first with that technique until Dar Kendra deems you have mastered it. You’ll then be tested on that mastery against a real enemy. In other orders, they use criminals. The more you master, the more you’ll be taught. BUT, there is no rest, no recovery time. You’ll have breaks for food and water, while you train. The healers will keep you on your feet, but you must trust us and fight with all your heart. Training will end when your heart fails from exertion, or Dar Kendra deems you have reached your limits.”
Ora opened her scriptures to the Book of Flames and held it to Malcor. She pointed to a verse there. “My Children, my children. Let your hearts soar as the dragons. The winds may blow but they fill your wings and carry to Heaven. My Children, my children. Let you not fear the grave but take hope in your hearts; the River does not have you yet and you are Mine now and always. Though the River may take you, let it fill your hearts and soar to my Heavens. In the beginning were the dragons not the mightiest? Are they not My Children? Remember remember my children, that you are also mine.”
As she finished, Ora whispered just barely, “Do you understand this?”
Malcor shrugged, “I am to fight like I am a dragon? There is a suggestion here that humans can serve beyond death.”
Tembri raised his eyebrow, “Most initiates read this to mean that the Queen and the dragons are above us. You read this to mean you should face the trial of combat like a dragon?” He grinned an approving smile and added, “By the Goddess, this will be a hero for the ages!”
They continued to talk about training and the lich quest. Eventually, Malcor felt a presence and the three of them stopped. The minotaur towered over them and nodded his head. When he spoke, his voice had a deep baritone and guttural quality to it that felt like he was being insulted and condescended to at the same time. “The forge is completed as ordered. I am required to seek your approval?”
Malcor stood and had to step around the minotaur, who did not move. The beast acted like he wanted a confrontation with Malcor. Reaching the forge, the two dwarves bowed low. A few steps thundered and then there stood the minotaur again. His clawed finger pointed to a rune. “This rune is elemental fire from that realm. It heats the green gems, a type of diamond we cull from Bloodstone. Do not touch the green gems when they glow. They glow when as hot as the hottest fire you can imagine Sir Knight.”
“And these other runes?”
“They contain the forge’s magic.” The minotaur pointed to the door. “This will always be stone unless you touch your hand to the center rune.” Malcor put his hand on the rune in the center of the archway. “And speak your name. The wall remains but you will be able to pass through. Go ahead.”
Malcor spoke his name and felt the stone under his hand vanish as if not there. His eyes still saw the wall. The minotaur smashed his fist into the wall making a loud cracking boom. His other hand shoved Malcor, who stumbled through the wall into a large supply room. An elderly man sat at a table covered with papers. He smiled up at Malcor, “Welcome young master! I am Quartermaster Felnar. A pleasure to meet you.” Malcor noted the archway glowed faintly behind him. After exchanging a greeting, he stepped back through.
The minotaur had s
tepped back by the anvil, arms folded across his chest. “Tools are there,” pointing against the wall. “This rune here allows heat to escape the cradle in case you need warming.” He picked up the large blacksmith hammer. “This is enchanted to repeat whatever blow you last made.” He lifted the hammer and smashed it down on the anvil. The force of the hit made the hammer face glow red hot from the force of the strike. He tossed the hammer to the stone floor where it clanged loudly and bounced a few times before resting by Malcor’s bed. The minotaur then said, “Hammer, repeat” in draconian. The hammer flew across the room into position as if being held and then smashed down onto the anvil with the exact same arc and strike, as if held by the minotaur. “It will only move to the anvil and strike this anvil, but don’t be caught between the hammer and its path to the anvil. Hammer, stop.” At his command, the hammer fell bouncing off the anvil in a shower of sparks to rest on the floor. “Hammer, repeat” and it leapt back into position to strike. He stopped the hammer and asked, “Do you have any questions?”
“Thank you,” Malcor said. He walked over and picked up the hammer. It felt solid and heavier than his old hammer in Klenna. He could feel magic moving through and around it. “This is amazing. Thank you.” He rested the hammer down carefully on the anvil.
He turned around to see Dar Kendra leaning in his doorway. She smiled, turned, and left. The minotaur and its dwarven helpers bowed to take their leave. Tembri waited until they had left and walked over the forge by Malcor. “If I hear anything, I will let you know. I suggest you rest. Some feel like they need to prepare by exercising or practicing. There is no point. You will experience pain till death and combat until your internal organs fail. The important thing is that you learn. Not even this Order uses healing to accelerate training the way you will be. Rest. Calm your mind. Find your center. When all was pain and death, I watched many around me die out because they could not find their center.”
He bowed low and left. Alone, Ora and Malcor eyed each other. To his surprise, Ora bowed low as well and left, taking the paperwork for the Tor House with her. She kissed his cheek. “I am not a member of the Order of anything. I’m a Temple priestess. As such, I do not know how long Dar Kendra will allow me to stay. I have never been in combat like Tembri. I doubt I will see you very much. Remember, look for me when the snow falls. You are wonderful.” She kissed him and in that embrace, Malcor had that feeling of his destiny out there, stretching into the distance and he stood firmly on that path. He held her tightly.
“I will look for you. I promise.” So much had happened. Malcor sat down and exhausted sleep took him. And, the River flowed on.
Something struck him in the head. He faintly registered pain. It him again. Then again. His body felt weightless, as if floating, but trying to wake up everything seemed ponderously heavy. He tried to open his eyes. Nothing. It hit him again. His mind registered that he needed to wake up. Something was hitting him.
Harder than it should be, he finally opened his eyes and saw Tembri dump a bucket of icy cold water over him. It felt distant and heavy, but woke him up enough. “What time…”
Tembri smirked, “It’s really early. You’ve been asleep at least 13 hours though. I’m surprised they left you alone so long. Kendra sent me to bring you to the combat rune. As you are. Now.” Tembri lifted Malcor up to his feet and pushed him to the door. Mal’s stomach growled.
The path to the main chamber would take a few minutes to walk and Tembri used it to brief Malcor. “Three of the paladins are there. They are to start you on basic hand to hand, agility, and signaling. Signaling is a hand talk Daryx brought with him from the dark elf realm. You will use it to tell me what prayers you need as well as your intentions in the field of battle. The Queen’s divine might should be no different than your sword or shield as tool for combat. Once you master the basics, you’ll move on to sword and shield and more complex signaling. So long as you do not quit and demonstrate proficiency, your training will progress until you either exhaust the healers – all of them are there – or reach your current mental, emotional, and physical limits. Remember, you must find your center. This part of training took me five years and my Bloodstone campaign.”
They entered the main chamber. Three of the Order stood on the platform with all of the battle priests and a few healers he did not recognize sitting in the theater around the stage. They walked up on to the stage and it began.
One of the knights raised his hand and made a sign that appeared to be a summon to challenge. However, one of the battle priests stood and immediately cast a spell at the knight. The knight seemed to swell with power and confidence. “I am Verit. This is the signal to boost your defenses and awareness in combat. It is a basic blessing even the newest priests can use. You try.” He showed Malcor the signal again.
Malcor copied it and Tembri immediately did the same sending vitality and energy to him. As the prayer washed over him, he felt a surge of confidence and loving protection. It came with a fire in his belly that made him feel ready to take on any foe. “Excellent,” Verit said. He moved his arms in counter circles. “You might recognize this from the War Dance. It is a basic self-defense posture. In armor, your bracers can block swords and other weapons. In hand to hand, it keeps your front safe and your fingers free for signaling. We will attack you slowly. Once you have it, we will go faster and faster. We expect you to improvise the parry and use the Bless signal to augment when you tire.”
The three came at Malcor, and similar to the war dance, it started slow and then went faster and faster. He quickly lost count of the parries but soon the knights attacked so quickly he could barely follow their movements in spite of signaling and feeling the boosts. Faster and faster it went until he could only feel their strikes.
One of the knights made some kind of a signal and Malcor noticed a priest touch a rune on the edge of the stage. Immediately, the stage vanished and they now fought in a heavily wooded forest where downed trees, leaves, and a stream made footing treacherous. Caught off guard by the transition, Malcor signaled for a Bless, and took a blow to his chest. It hurled him back into a tree which cracked from his body’s impact.
“The field of combat is always changing Sir Malcor,” one of the knights said from somewhere behind him.
Another added, “You cannot be distracted by illusions, or pools of blood and bodies in your way.”
The third said, “What starts out clean and obvious becomes impossible to anticipate after enemy contact. The only thing that matters is the mission.”
Malcor parried as the tempo increased again beyond his ability to see and several struck him hard from opposite sides so that he remained standing but unable to breathe. He signaled and then stepped out of the River. From his new ethereal perspective, he saw the knights moving and signaling to each other. He blocked reflexively. One of the knights used a signal that enervated the knight and accelerated his movements. Malcor made the same sign and felt Tembri’s approval. Power coursed through Malcor and suddenly he did not need the River’s perspective to fight. After several minutes, the knights stopped.
“Excellent Sir Malcor. We will now show you how to parry with your legs and turn your body into a counterstrike. You have correctly used the Hastening signal. This is the symbol for Healing. This is the symbol for Growth. This is the symbol for Strength. As your size grows, your Hastening will slow but Strength increases. We fight this time until you die. And the field will change every minute. Like last time, we start slow and increase the pace.”
His training continued. He fought giants on a plain for lava. He fought nimble assassins on a glacier of ice. He fought the knights under pouring waterfalls amongst slippery rocks. Somehow he kept pace though his breathing became labored and his body went numb. He fought on and on and on. When he felt as if he would burst apart from the strain, they would take a brief rest to review new signals and techniques. At some point, they transitioned to sword techniques, then sword and shield, then dual swords.
When
the pain became too great, Malcor stepped out of the River again and watched himself fight with blinding speed. The knights’ choreographed attack looked beautiful from the River. He could see his life’s thread fraying strike by slicing attack though even he struggled furiously for his life. He signaled for Healing for the hundredth time and one of the healers near Tembri collapsed. Tembri flashed a hand sign and another healer stepped forward shakily.
A voice near him in the River’s space said, “You need to counterstrike harder. The knights are waiting to see you begin to hurt them before they allow you to progress.” Malcor looked downstream and saw Tembri’s visage there. “There are prayers that can help but you must do this by yourself, for now. Center yourself on killing them. Hate them. Spite them. Whatever works. They are your enemy right now. Focus on their deaths and pray to the Queen for victory!”
Distracted, Malcor dodged a sword cut too late and parried the blade with his arm. His arm sliced off from his elbow and went spinning to the side in a spray of blood. The shock unraveled his life’s thread and tore him back into the River. Choking and dodging another attack, he screamed out “Regenerate!”
Tembri’s power stabbed into his arm stump and his sword rose up to counter. He registered Tembri collapsing, but focused on fighting. Using his sword like a hammer at the forge, he found a rhythm of slice, stab, block as bone and tissue too slowly regrew. Parry and Heal sign but it lessened his grip on his sword and a knight smacked it away from him. He summoned it back with his ring Righteous Might just in time to parry and attack. He knew he would die but he had to… Malcor returned to the River and focused his attack on just one of the knights. Raised in a forge and strengthened by the Queen, his blows struck like a hammer and finally, his sword found blood. He looked in grim satisfaction as the tip of his sword pierced plate armor and drew blood from the knight’s forearm. Too late for Malcor though, it felt odd to see three sword points explode from his body as dual swords stabbed into his torso and another through his neck.