Frantically, I stumbled backwards avoiding his next attack. My heart beat so fast that I lost focus. After one wrong step, I lost balance and fell on my back. With cold, violent eyes he stepped over me and pressed the tip of his sword against my throat. There was no way out this time. Helplessly I closed my eyes.
“Enough,” ordered Terric approaching the group. “Everyone, go to sleep. You fools should use your energy for something better than mindless brawls. If this happens again, both of you will face consequences.”
Constantine growled and quickly disappeared with his friends, as Peter helped me get back on my feet. I wanted to thank Terric, but he left as fast as he had appeared. Bruised but relieved we returned to the cottage with the other recruits. I laid out a thin cushioning layer of hay over the hard ground and rolled myself into two of the blankets my parents had given me. All this preparation barely fought the bitter cold that ran down my spine and bit my skin.
It was utterly uncomfortable but wonderful at the same time. After a day of getting beaten up, I relished the luxury of just lying down and stretching my muscles. In no time I had dozed off to sleep.
A sudden whisper in my ear wakened me. Katrina’s soft sweet voice repeated my name over and over. I got up from my bed and opened the door of the blacksmith shop. Blazing lights blinded my eyes. As the image adjusted to the light, horror became clear. The whole town was in flames. Men and women lay dead in the streets. There was nobody but me.
The voice came again, “Adam.”
I turned around. Katrina stood in the middle of the street. She was bleeding, her body tortured, and her wrists roughed up from the chains that dangled down her sides. Her hair was messy and caught up in the blood that stained her beautiful face.
The cries grew more painful, “Adam!” Tears rolled down her face as they did on mine.
I ran towards her, with every step seemingly distancing myself more from her. Her screams grew more vehement. I had almost reached her and was ready to wrap her in my arms.
Her body lit up in flames. Her screams deafened my ears and the visual blinded my eyes. The buildings around us began falling apart. The world crumbled to pieces. I knelt on the vacant street watching with tears in my eyes as everything vanished into plain nothingness.
At last it was all gone, and I sat in what appeared to be a white room. A white door with a silver knob was the only thing that stood out. As my eyes fixed on the door, the room turned into a cave. The door was still there but a new texture covered my surroundings. With careful steps I approached the door. Collecting all my strength I lifted a heavy blockade that protected its lock, and unbolted the door. It was the only way I could go, yet I was not sure if going forward was any better than staying. I looked around. A trail of blood marked what lay behind me, yet uncertainty awaited me behind the door. With trembling hands I twisted the knob. Bright lights escaped the cracks of the slowly opening door. The cave illuminated for a moment with a fascinating sparkle, before turning even darker than before. A black substance like the darkest smog, rushed towards–even through–me. With every second a bit of the light vanished. The dark force pushed me to the ground and drowned me in weakness. Fatigue spread throughout my body, making it hard for me to keep my eyes open. A faint light appeared in the far distance beyond the door. I tried to reach for it but passed out into the oppressing darkness.
I begged for air. My heart was racing. Sitting upright I found myself in the midst of the cottage surrounded by sleeping recruits. It was all a dream. My heart began to beat in its regular rhythm but my mind was still caught in the distressful images of my nightmare. I clenched the eagle necklace in my right fist and laid back down.
The air and the ground were freezing, forbidding me to close my eyes. Beyond the physical hardships, my senses were troubled by what I had just seen. While it appeared to be a dream it was more real than most of the things I had experienced this past year.
After a sleepless hour, I went out for a walk. Leaving the cottage I found only the night-watch up and awake. One of them advised me to stay close to the outer wall in sight of the guards, just to be safe.
I climbed up the ladder of the palisade–the feared and praised outer wall that separated our sleeping refuge from the outside world. The view was rather underwhelming as the vast darkness consumed everything but the few campfires lit by guards that decided to stay outside. The bitter cold that reigned already now in November was bound to grow worse once the snow would break out.
“Can’t sleep?” asked Terric who stood just a few yards away gazing into the night sky.
“Nightmares,” I answered, “I saw the city and my girlfriend going up in flames.”
“Not the worst I’ve seen,” he commented with a dark chuckle, “You and that girl have a kid?”
“No, unlike most I wanted to wait,” I said. “I want to raise my son, and not return to see an estranged ten year old.”
“Well, you don’t always have the choice of returning. Life sometimes takes unsuspected turns and nothing goes as planned. Should have done it while you could,” he said. “Well, I’m not going to make you feel any worse. I saw you were in a fight today, almost got yourself killed there.”
I could feel myself turn red at the possibly worst first impression I had made that day on the commander. “I never thanked you for stepping in.”
“There is nothing to thank me for. I was just enforcing the rules.” He added with a grin, “But let me tell you, getting into a fight the first day takes a hell of a big mouth. I am surprised you made it eighteen years with that attitude.”
Even at this time he wore his full armor. A pelt of what looked like a wolf covered his bulky shoulders, and a broad long two hand sword was placed on his back. His eyes were alert and yet an absent glimmer was in them as he observed the stars in such a tranquil manner. “I never caught your name,” he said.
“I am Adam.”
“Tell me Adam,” he looked at me, “what do we live for?”
“To live,” I said surprised by the need for a purpose.
“Why? Are our breaths, our survival, and our mere reproduction all that we are good for? What makes us different from the animals that graze on the lawn? How can such an animalistic purpose give us the right to conquer and control the world? We live and we die, just like the paling star that disappears in the sky.”
I thought about his words for a while until I broke the silence, “I once asked the Inquisitor a similar question. Now thinking about it I believe that the purpose of our lives is to find a purpose.”
Terric made a grunt and tensed his face as if he were physically thinking about what I just said.
“There isn’t one purpose, one measure, for us all to live by. The only purpose we share is that we all seek a purpose within our life,” my glance caught Orion, “some find it young, some find it in their dying moments. For some it might be both. It all goes back to how we impact the world around us: Our loved ones, the stranger on the street, and the child of the future that opens a history book to our decade. The star only pales if you let it. My brother died not long ago, but his story lives on. When I was a little boy he would point to the stars, show me Orion, and tell me that he will protect me even when he is no longer around. Every time I see the stars I think of him. He never had children, he never reached his 30th birthday, yet his existence affects my very nature and my every move. Through me he lives on.”
Terric sighed and bowed his head, “You seem to have it all figured out for such a young man like yourself. Don’t tell anyone this, but as a military man I believe leadership should be based on skill, strength and wisdom, not on some antique form of tradition. We could don’t have faith in the Inquisitor?” I use a bright young mind like yours to lead us.”
Surprised and amazed I glanced over at Terric. “You asked him. I wanted to agree with him, yet was afraid that this was all a test of my loyalty and allegiance. “How do you know that your words do not offend me? My creed would oblige me to accuse you of
sacrilege.”
“If you still had faith in the Inquisitor or God, you would not be up here pondering about life. You would have stayed in the cottage and prayed for the demons to stop taunting your soul,” he said.
“It appears to me that you are not praying either,” I remarked.
“To answer your question, I have faith in the Inquisitor to please a crowd and enchant them with illusions. However I don’t have faith in him aiding our survival any longer. People worship the Inquisition yet abhor the Guard. Resources enter gates under the flag of the Inquisition while the dead bodies of the sons of the city wear the armor and insignia of the Grey Guard. If it weren’t for his poisonous manipulation, the Guard would long be in control.” As he continued, his words filled with passion like the crescendo of a bard’s song, “We are the invisible hands that sow the seeds that make your daily bread. We chop the wood that forms the bed on which you sleep at night. We defend those walls that protect you as you stroll across the marketplace. But people will never see us for what we truly are. Every young man fears to join us, and every twenty-eight year old is ready to forget the past ten years of his life. What we need is not antipathy, but support to form a stronger Guard. I see the bitter truth every day, and it is not getting any rosier. Quite contrary, unless things out here start to calm down, our productions won’t be able to support the city much longer.”
I was absorbed by Terric’s words. Despite being afraid of asking for any more than he already opened up to me, my curiosity pushed me further, “What… what are these things out there?”
“Some of them look like brutes, sheer monsters. Others look unmistakably like you and me. What some have in power, the others have in cunning. Many of my men have been tempted and tricked by the latter. There is just one thing I can tell you,” Terric slowed his speech and looked me in the eyes, “they might look like us, but their souls are possessed by hatred. The most deceptive things in this world are what our eyes entrust us with.”
Chapter 12
“Take a seat everyone, and don’t touch the leaves,” Terric ordered as we entered the common-hall. Nigel, Peter, James and I hid in the last row behind the other first and second trimester students. Terric took his position in the front of the common-hall where usually the food was given out, “Today as part of your survival training, I will introduce you to some plants that can either save or kill you, so pay close attention.”
Nigel stretched his lanky arms and yawned luxuriously. “Boring,” he whispered, extending his vowels as if he were physically bored by the lecture.
“See, in the city I would find a nice girl and skip classes like these,” Peter said with a bragging grin.
“I loved taking out ya mother during class, ya’r completely right,” Nigel said with an even more triumphant smile.
Peter punched Nigel in the side, who then bumped into James. “Gentlemen, calm down,” James said furiously, shaking his head from annoyance, “some of us are trying to pay attention.”
Peter and Nigel mocked James and continued with their games. After listening to Peter rant about his girl adventures for ten minutes I jumped in, “Peter has one big mouth, but he never actually touched a girl.”
“Oh really?” said Peter tilting his head. “At your celebration while you were feasting with the Inquisitor I was feasting on the butcher’s daughter.”
“The butcher’s daughter, Johanna? What a whore! I had her before too,” Nigel yelled baffled.
“Quiet down and pay attention you idiots!” said Terric, whom we had already forgotten in the midst of our conversation.
“My parents always said: ‘Sharing is caring’,” whispered Peter patting Nigel on the back, “Adam on the other hand doesn’t like to share. Did you know he met with the Inquisitor’s ward at night sometimes?”
Nigel looked at me in disbelieve. “We looked through her telescope and talked, that is all,” I said defensively.
“Looked through her telescope, I am sure,” Peter laughed.
“Shut up, we were just friends,” I said getting progressively louder.
“That’s enough! Blacksmith, come up here,” Terric yelled angrily.
I hesitated for a moment. After he insisted, I got up and walked to the front of the room. Everyone’s eyes were glued on me as I faced Terric in the front of the hall. He turned to me with two leaves in his hand. They were seemingly identical, with the same light green and slim shape. One of the two had pointy edges, while the other was smooth. That was their only difference.
“You are alone in a cave, starving, and can find absolutely no game,” he said. “Which of the two would you eat?”
“That’s simple,” I said pretending to know. I did not want Terric to think any less of me. Over the past weeks I had talked with him almost every night and looked up to him more and more by the day. Observing the leaves I thought carefully. The rough edges appeared less edible than the soft ones, so I grabbed the latter from his hand ready to put it in my mouth.
His hand shot out and stopped my arm. “Foolish naïve kids. That’s what all of you still are. It’s time to separate the men from the boys,” he looked at me and ripped the leave from my hand. “You my friend might have just died. In a matter of three minutes the poison would have paralyzed your nerves, leaving you immobile and permanently disabled.” Terric tossed the leaves back on the table, turning towards the other observers, “All of you can keep talking and dreaming about life in the city, or you can pay attention and actually make it back. The choice is yours. Just don’t let me be the one that has to pick up your dead bodies from the forest floor when you chose the wrong berries to eat.” He paused, “I am done here. I will see you all tomorrow.” Without another word Terric walked out of the common-hall, leaving me in front of the crowd ashamed.
The sun had reached its peak. It was the only time when the sun’s rays eliminated the sickening cold of winter. Inside the city it was cold too, but we hardly spent half as much time outside as in the Guard. Peter, Nigel, and I briskly made our way to the shooting range located in the training complex facing the outer wall. Around thirty bales of straw were lined up along the wall, which was covered with arrow marks. Each bale was decorated by a red circle with a black dot at its center. As we picked up our bows some thirty to forty yards from the targets, the recruits went quiet.
Master Yorick entered the range behind us with his powerful dark presence. He was a man as agile as a snake and yet as strong as a dragon. It was hard to tell his age as his white head was shaved bald with nothing but a scar above his right eye. The only indicator was a short dark beard at the chin that had begun to grey.
“Raise and aim!” he ordered without any introduction. With my left arm stretched, I held the bow out in front of me, aiming the arrow an inch above the target.
“Draw!” Yorick yelled, passing the ranks to check for proper form.
“Fire!” In almost perfect unison, the score of arrows flew off like the sound of a straw catching fire.
“That was awful, let’s try that again,” Yorick said glancing at the arrow spiked wall, “Raise!”
It was a tiring yet meditative routine. Both focus and strength had to be intertwined. There was no space for frustration because any negative emotion guaranteed one to miss the next arrow as well. In order to hit I had to visualize the arrow striking its target before it was even released. To complete the day’s training we had to pierce three consecutive arrows into the black center.
After hours of practice I came to understand that using a bow was both an art and a science. A lot of it was just talent and feeling. Whenever we all missed our targets, Yorick would pull out a bow and spike a target with three arrows, dead center, in less than five seconds. He didn’t aim, he didn’t measure, he didn’t wait. He just knew his bow and had an unparalleled control over it.
I on the other hand, who lacked any sort of talent at this point, had to compensate with science. After every shot I remembered the location of the arrow tip and noted how far I
drew the bowstring. Once I had hit the target it was a mere labor of exact repetition. Certainly, if an enemy had been there I would not have stood a chance, but at the very least it helped me gain a feeling for the distance.
After around ten rotations of three shots, I finally nailed all three into the red center. Yorick glanced over to check for completions and lifted his thumb, “Well done, Blacksmith.”
Nigel was still trying when I joined a group of recruits that had completed the task. Peter was among them. He had been done after only two rotations. The work in the blacksmith shop had given me strong arms at most; he on the other hand had the steady precision of a barber.
Yorick was leaning back on a high chair, overseeing the entire range. The recruits that were done had assembled on the floor around him, listening to him speak.
“That’s a good question,” he said. “Recruits always ask me what to do when your group is ambushed and someone gets wounded. It’s simple. When you see blood or hear a scream, run as fast as you can to the outer wall,” he looked around with a vivid yet cold gaze. Some of us were in protest about this cowardly advice. If a friend of mine were hurt, I would never run, I thought. “I don’t care if it is your best friend, brother, heck even if your own mother finds a way out there. There is no place for being a hero outside the wall. Many have tried and got rolled into the city on a cart alongside the friends they tried to save. Terric will try to teach you valor, comraderie, and all that nonsense. I will teach you survival. Here in the Guard it is just you, and only you. The moment you start thinking about someone else, you are one step closer to your own death. Call me an egoist, a cold bastard or whatever you want, but deep inside you know I am right. And when something happens, you will thank me.”
Dark Age Page 8