by Heath Pfaff
Ethan chuckled. "At least you will have support on your path." His expression sobered a little, though the slight smile on his face didn't falter. "I am eager, too, to see what becomes of Lowin Fenly." He stood from the table and I took that to mean that I should as well. Kyeia stood at my side. Ethaniel, once again, reached his hand out to me, and I took it in my own, this time making sure to hold his powerful claw firmly in my tiny human hand. "It will be a long while before we meet again, young Lowin. Train hard."
I was surprised. I had expected Ethaniel to be around during my training for some reason. "You will be leaving Fell Rock?" I asked, though the answer was already apparent.
"Yes, I came only to see you before your training begins. I try to do so for all initiates. I'm afraid time no longer permits me to be around for all of your training. I trust you are in good hands, though. Malice, the dire-wolf-bitch in Knight guise, is quite efficient at making people reach their potential. She fights like a demon, too. Learn well from her. Listen to what she doesn't tell you, more than what she does. That's the best advice I can offer." The Knight turned to Kyeia and bowed. "Watch young Lowin, Kyeia. Keep him strong and on course and try not to let the future he doesn't control mar him in your eyes." Kyeia smiled, the sadness I'd seen often on her features, lurking just beneath.
"I will not." She said solemnly. Ethaniel turned then, returning to his window, and I understood that our meeting was over.
...Try not to let the future he doesn't control mar him in your eyes. I couldn't begin to understand what Ethaniel meant by that, but it bothered me. As we left the room and rejoined Silent in the hall beyond, I moved close to Kyeia, and opened my mouth to ask her just what had been meant by that cryptic phrase. She seemed to sense the question coming though, and put a finger up and covered my lips, as she'd done to me once before when she didn't want me to ask a question. "Don't worry about it, Lowin. It is nothing to be concerned about." She smiled at me, and though it was a warm smile, I saw it for what it was- a mask put on for my benefit, to cover up what she was really feeling. I let it go, but at the same time I decided that I would not let it go indefinitely. I would know what was bothering her, so that I might find some way to help her.
I was at the training yard the following morning well before dawn. I didn't, however, beat Malice to the field. This time she was already waiting, crouched down in her shifting cloak, for me when I arrived. I approached her with no little trepidation, never quite certain what she would do from moment to moment. I took heart in Ethaniel's praise of her abilities from the day before, but still I feared her temper and vicious tongue. She stood as I approached, uncoiling like a serpent until she reached her full, impressive height. I stood quietly, waiting for whatever might come next. Silent was somewhere behind me, having followed me from my room out to the practice field. I was happy for his friendly company, even if he had little to say. I knew he wouldn't stick around long - he had other things to attend to - but at least he was a comforting companion for the initial meeting with my rage-filled instructor.
The tall female warrior chose not to comment on whether I was early, late, or how long she'd been outside waiting for me. "Today we will be ascertaining your current level of skill in multiple areas." Her voice was crisp and authoritative. She was obviously familiar with the role of command. "I will expect you to keep going until you believe you cannot, at which point I will force you to go until I believe that you are unable to go any further. If you are smart, you will not allow for much discrepancy between those two points." She turned away from me than and began walking. I fell in behind her, not sure what else to do.
"We will start with a test of your balance." She led me to a strange set up of narrow poles protruding from the ground at varying heights, anywhere from a couple of inches, to nearly seven feet in height. The poles were circular, rounded at the top and no wider than a palm's width across. There were hundreds of them stretched out over thirty yards of area, irregularly placed so that they looked like some strange forest of topless trees. She stepped onto the first one, and then another, maneuvering through the field of truncated trees without breaking her pace at all, seeming to not even watch her feet as she moved. When she reached the far end she turned to me and held up her hands, as if asking, "Well?" I took a deep breath and stepped up on to the nearest pole. It was about knee high, and as I got my right foot onto it I realized that it would be nearly impossible to get my left up as well. I sent my left out searching for another pole and found one, but not without some considerable effort and wind milling of my arms to keep my balance. It was still dark outside and that wasn't making things any easier. I tried to lift my right foot again, to move it to the next closest pole, but as I did, my weight suddenly found that it had nowhere to go and I fell to the ground, my left foot sliding from its precarious position. The fall wasn't far but I still managed to trip over the pole that my right foot had been on, until a moment before, and fall to my knees in the grass.
"That is the worst anyone has ever done on their first try, oaf, get back up and try again." Malice called from the other end of the obstacle. I bit back my anger and climbed cautiously back onto the polls, determined not to fall so quickly again. Once I had both feet into a starting position, I tried to move my right foot again, shifting my weight to my left in the hope of using it to anchor my movements. It almost worked, but I moved my weight too far over my left foot and ended up falling backwards to the grass, this time hitting my head on one of the wooden poles on the way down. I got back to my feet, meaning to try again, but before I could get my wits about myself I felt a strong push at my back and I went sprawling forward. I turned myself back over, looking up to see Malice standing behind me, rage in her eyes.
"Where is your balance, oaf?" She demanded.
I didn't know how to reply. This was not a question I had ever considered before.
"Are you a lost cause? When you stand, how do you maintain your balance? Where is the center of balance for your body?" Her questions were pointed and angry. In a flash she moved from where she'd been standing when she pushed me, to standing bent over me. I felt her incredibly powerful hand grip the front of my shirt and she dragged me to my feet. Her other hand pressed a point slightly below my naval, at first tenderly and then I felt first my clothing, followed by the skin below, tear. She let me go, and I staggered back, reaching a hand down to my stomach and bringing it back covered in blood. I was startled, almost terrified, but I could tell that the wound was not life-threatening, though to see so much of my own blood left me momentarily weak in the knees.
"That is where you center of balance is, though a little deeper inside. Remember that. Keep that point in mind when you move. This must become second nature to you. You must be always mindful, but never consciously so, of that point." Her lecture finished she remounted the poles and crossed them effortlessly. "Now, again, and if you fail to do better this time I'll point out the exact depth of your center of balance." She held up her claw, my blood still dripping from it, and licked the crimson liquid from the razor-ended digit. I made myself take a few deep, steadying breaths. I climbed back onto the poles. The pain of the cut on my stomach made it so that I couldn't help but be mindful of the point Malice had marked as the center of my gravity. This time, when I went to move my right foot, I slowly leaned my body until the point of pain was above my left leg. It was a stretch to reach that point, but once I was there it was a simple matter to move my right foot on to another pole, this one higher. I smiled to myself, whether Malice was impressed or not I didn't care. I had made progress. I looked up at her for a moment, only to see that her angry expression had not changed. I looked back down at my feet, deciding to ignore her and just get as far as I could. That turned out to not be very far. I managed to get two more steps, but on the third I over compensated as I took my step and fell forward into the waiting stepping poles. The landing was hard.
As I turned to get up, Malice was there behind me again. I felt myself shaking as she came within
range of me, afraid that she would do as she'd said, and point out that deeper center of balance point. Instead, she simply said, "Your balance is terrible. Now we will test your reflexes." She turned and began walking to another area.
The sun was beginning to come up and I could see some silhouetted training equipment not too far away. I guessed that was where she was going, and I got to my feet as fast as I could to follow her there. When I arrived, I found myself facing a human shaped wood semblance with four paddles in place of arms. Malice stood behind it, four levers in front of her. I guessed at the nature of the machine before the black eyed woman even began to explain it. "You will use your arms to block the incoming blows from the practice dummy. I will gradually increase the speed of the blows as we go. If you miss a block, the punishment will be to take the full blow of the paddle." That was all the explanation she gave, and I accepted it as more than I probably should have needed.
I stood in front of the machine, watching the four paddles that were its arms and hands intently. From the position I was standing, I couldn't see Malice or the levers, so there was no warning when one was about to strike. The first took me entirely by surprise. The arm of the wood machine struck out fast, chopping towards my neck, and I had to both duck and put an arm up to stop the blow. I managed, but the second arm hit me before I could think to try and stop it. The blow was hard enough to bruise, and I winced in pain. The onslaught stopped, and I righted myself.
"Pay attention." Malice snapped.
The wooden arms came again, and this time I managed to block the first three, dodge away from the fourth, and block the fifth. The sixth struck me hard, likely a result of my movement when I avoided the fourth. Malice confirmed that suspicion. "You are blocking these, not dodging them."
This time they came faster. I found myself hard pressed to get through them but did my best to keep pace. I lost count of the blows after twenty, my arms moving for all they were worth, as the wooden paddles began to get even faster yet and then found myself on the ground, on my knees, my forearms the only thing between my head and the dirt. There was something wet running down the side of my face, and I lifted one of my hands to it. My fingers came away red. I staggered up and saw that the dummy was no longer in front of me. I turned around, and there it was, Malice standing beside it. One of its paddle hands had a large splotch of red on it. I realized, then, that I must have been struck so hard that I'd spun around entirely.
"How is your head?" Malice asked.
I squinted and touched a sore spot near the crown of my skull, and my fingers jumped away as they encountered a fierce pain. "I think it's bleeding." I answered, though I felt that it was an inadequate answer.
"I'm afraid so." The black eyed warrior replied and there was a strange look on her face, though I couldn't quite identify it. It was unfamiliar territory with her, but it may have been concern. Of course that perception might also have been the result of the hit to the head I'd just taken. She came closer to me, then and I flinched away, almost certain that she was about to lay into me for failing another test, but instead her hand went beneath her own cloak and came out with a roll of bandages. She worked quickly, fastening a length of the wrappings about my throbbing skull. Her work done, she returned the bandages to wherever they'd appeared from. I was still waiting for her to yell at me about the reflex test but she didn't. Instead she said, "Next we'll be testing your stamina. I hope your legs are in better shape than you head."
The track I was to run stretched around the entire area encompassing the practice field. When I first started running, the stamina test seemed to be the easiest of those I'd taken that day, but I soon realized that I was mistaken. By the end of the first lap I was staggering with every step and gasping for breath that the air seemed unwilling to give me. Malice was at my side, keeping pace with no effort at all. Her unending energy was disheartening. "Is this all you can do? You've only been running for three minutes." The look of disgust was back on her face. "Push harder." I did. My head was throbbing in time to my heartbeat, and my heart was beating three times for every fall of my foot. I kept pushing myself. I collapsed once, but was back up again quickly. There comes a point when one tests their limits that the body stops functioning of natural impulse and must be driven with pure force of will. I had reached that point. Every lifting of my foot was a practice in mechanical planning. I must bend the knee, tense the muscle in my thigh to draw my leaden foot from the ground, hinge the knee joint until my foot passed the grounded leg, place the heel down, and then repeat the whole process for the other leg. Black spots began to form on my vision and suddenly my legs wouldn't respond to my commands anymore. I hit the low trimmed grass of the track with a great deal of force and rolled a few feet. I hadn't made two full circuits of the track. For all the effort I'd given, I was only three-fourths of the way around the track for the second time.
I heard the soft padding of Malice's feet approaching, and looked over in time to see her wolf-esque paws carrying her towards me. "Again, you disappoint. Most others make at least two and a half circuits before I need to coerce them to push harder. You are completely spent in less than two. At this rate, you will never amount to anything." I felt something hit me in the chest, not hard, and I looked down to see what it was. It turned out to be a water-skin. I grabbed it, removed the cork, and put the narrow opening to my lips as quickly as I could. The cool liquid sent a surge of pleasure through my body, as I realized for the first time just how badly I'd needed a drink. I was covered in sweat, my shirt soaked most of the way through, and all that liquid had come from my body's stores. I handed the skin back to Malice after taking a couple more deep drags.
"Come, let us see how dexterous you are." I had a hard time getting back to my feet, but I managed, after a moment of struggle. Once I was standing, I felt as though a strong breeze might knock me over. I had never been so exhausted in all of my life. I fell in behind Malice and followed her to the next test. We again approached a set of practice dummies. These particular wooden figures were operated by some mechanical means that I couldn't identify. They had complicated joints for arms that connected to chain flails. Once activated, the dummies began to swing their chain arms in a hypnotic and shifting pattern of movements. Malice handed me one of two practice swords she'd pulled from a storage shed near this particular test.
"The object of this challenge is to score as many hits as you can on the body of the practice dummy. You have ten attempts to score a hit, and your score will be marked out of ten. The dummy is equipped with bells that will chime when you succeed in hitting its body." She spun her own sword in her hand and approached the dummy. There was a blur of motion from Malice, and I heard three distinctive rings. A second later, there was another blur accompanied by four more rings. Once more her practice wand blurred and there were three more chimes. "That is how it's done." She said simply. "Of course, I hardly expect you to score multiple hits on each attempt. Begin." She stepped out of the way, her eyes falling on me with a look that was a mixture of judgment and expectation. I was certain she expected me to fail again.
I approached this new test with some caution. The last of these wooden dummies had very nearly brained me and I was not sure if I trusted this one to be any gentler. I held the wooden sword in front of me and stepped closer, trying to make out some pattern in the way the arms weaved. I thought I saw an opening for a moment and I charged in with the wood blade. The chains of the flailing dummy knocked my sword from my hand and it sailed several body-lengths away. I was forced to recover it before making my next attempt and I could feel the burning eyes of Malice upon me the entire time. The second time, I watched more closely and I began to notice that there were holes, small, barely larger than the width of the practice weapon I held, in the defensive pattern of my chain wielding, wooden foe. These holes opened and closed, leaving enough time for a deft strike of the weapon. I readied my weapon, preparing to strike at the next such opening. The wait was difficult, but when the opening came I stabbed
as fast as I dared. I felt the crack of my wooden weapon hitting the chain all the through my arm, into my shoulder and up into my neck. My practice sword spun away to the ground. I had failed again.
"How do you expect to strike a straight blow, if you let the forward movement of your sword over-extend your balance? Your sword point will dip if you do not counter balance it with your body. You can see the gaps, now apply your dexterity and strike at them, oaf. This is a simple exercise." Malice's words were as hard-edged as ever and they made me angry. Keeping my temper under control was difficult. If I hadn't been so afraid of her, I may not have been able to do it. I gathered my weapon from the ground and approached the target again. The holes in the defense came in a repeating pattern. I could see it now, on my third attempt. They were timed so that, if you approached them quickly enough, you could gain multiple strikes in a sequence, as Malice had done. There was simply no way I could do four, or even three, as she had, but I wondered if I could make two. It would be hard. My timing would have to be perfect. I steadied the practice sword in my hand and prepared for my next attempt.
My opening appeared and I took it, remembering to balance my blade, as well as I could, with the rest of my body. I almost made my first strike, but my weapon was clipped at the last moment and ripped from my hand. It had been caught on the left side, the side of the opening that would lead to my second strike. I had anticipated it too much, been too close to that side in preparation for my second hit. If I had been trying for a single strike, I would have had it. I grit my teeth, recovered my weapon, and prepared to go again. "Concentrate, oaf." Malice snapped from off to the side. I waited, biding my time for the opening I needed. It was only a matter of seconds, but it felt much longer. The opening came, I made my strike again, and again I was too far to the left. My weapon spun to the ground behind me and I heard a great sigh from Malice.