by J Silverado
With teary eyes, Hrothgar nothing responds. – Again, so why decided to appear just now, Ethanael? – Galaniel questions. – Due to its finding. I came to reveal a secret lost for generations: the Primal Weapons. At the end of the First Age, more than seventeen hundred years, the four clans of men, that you now know as caste, inhabited the forgotten lands and beyond the silent sea. The mastery of magic and expertise with metals was much higher than today and each clan war created the maximum expression of its caste: a weapon to represent them... And it was no match for the rivals. For centuries, these weapons passed through the hands of all the leaders of their clans and were feared and respected, causing disputes between clans were rare and soon finished. So it was too, throughout the Millennium of the colonization period until the collapse of the clans, initiated by Kor. At the end of the war that bears his name, the clans defeated after years of conflict with each other, given their Primeval Weapons to Kor, who decided to be a lot of power to be handled by so few individuals and ordered that the weapons were destroyed, however, the clan elders, keepers of old customs and traditions, did not obey the order given by this new king. Instead, withdrew important parts of weapons, they reduce their power to the level of the other. Thus, they could be mixed with each other in Kolpor and, thus, they do not grab the attention of the king and his minions. The parts removed were stored in four other cities in secret locations. – How part of my gun did get here? – the guardian asks. – After decades of war, many valuable items get here in the slot. – So the other parts are here too? – Rion questions. – That I do not have the freedom to say, I can reveal that is the weapons which have a bond with each other. My time here has run out. Force warriors that the battle has not even begun – Ethanael concludes, disappearing into the air. – He never told us how we get out – Pelokir grumbles.
- Overcome the next room. By coming up a trail to the left, traverse it to the end – Galaniel listens the angel's voice in his head. – She said yes, my friend, we need to clear the entrance and get out of here as soon as possible. Come on.
The guardian puts his shield on the left arm and heads for the rubble and begins to remove them from the entry, which is followed by the other, but when the part of the passage is clear, a new attack of demons appears at the same, led by a legion that, with one blow, ends to release the passage of the camera, allowing that multiple demons entered.
The group puts itself on the defensive, with guns blazing to counterattack, Galaniel puts his hand to his belt, looking for his sword and he emembers that he lost on the bridges. Immediately, the upper end of the shell begins to glow and the guardian, driven by instinct, places his right hand which is shining, where it gets a go half round, and a small metallic noise is heard.
Galaniel then pulls the tip of the shield up, and a sword is revealed, leaving the center of his shield, with finely crafted blade, details in low relief and amethyst stones in its sheet. It was a long sword, broad-leaved, but perfectly manageable with one hand. Its tip was the very tip of the shield, which had been with the missing corner, but once the sword is completely removed from the shell, the grip shell turns ninety degrees to the right, leaving the shell in the same direction as the arm, and blades, extremely sharp, leaving the lower side and the tip of the shell, following its stroke. Rion, Codaino and Hrothgar fight the Legion, while Codaino and Nirmiriel also weakened, they use their powers to control the rest of the spectra.
After the amazement Galaniel starts fighting the demons, almost the same time the legion causes a shock wave slamming both fists on the floor and throwing his three opponents in the bottom of the chamber wall. The new configuration of his shell facilitated much its way to fight and Galaniel quickly passes away the first devil on his right with a sword starting from the head to the ground, while with the blades of his shell, he hews with a lateral movement the heads of two spectra, starting to co
The monster unleashes his head banging, throwing from above his two big hands to crush the shot that puts the left knee on the floor for support and he raises his shield with his left hand in defense of his body. The violence of the blow is so enormous that the rumble the chamber walls vibrate and the explosion, so loud that the demons around are stunned. The Legion raises its hands shaking as if to relieve pain without understanding what is happening.
Galaniel is back onhis feet, and with a blow of his sword arch, he brings down the two hands of the monstrous being. Then he plunges his shield, halfway in the devil chest, which then trembles, and falls to his knees and disappears. – That was for my father, damn! – Galaniel vents. Hearing the shot, his group immediately raises his right arm saluting: – Eight, eight, eight.
The demons, seeing that scene, get frightened and run out of the chamber, trying to regroup. – Come on, guys, we just need to get out of here before they return with reinforcements – the Guardian leads. The group exits the chamber and, while walking, gives combat laggards spectra that were still there. Exceeding the corridor, they reach a gigantic hall, where appeared thousands of cocoons pairs.
More than a hundred spectra protected the local and in the back of the room, there was a shapeless structure that emerged from the ground and reached nearly five feet tall. It was a diabolical throne, made of rocks settled in a disorderly way, connected by a green mortar, which was mixed with human bones, and sitting on it was Balkatar.
Graduation
Sixteen hundred and fifteen. Five years have passed. For the recruits, time seemed to run and the feeling is that they had arrived yesterday. The only thing they did notice was that they were no longer teenagers. Now there were men and women of strong constitution, warriors, though they were not experienced in war, they had caught numerous fighting. Not only trained more with their caste, now the training comprised hybrid teams, against the much larger challenges than the initial.
Each group had eight members, comprising a station, the basic unit of the army. Its formation could vary slightly depending on the purpose of the mission, but usually consisted of three forwards, three mentales, one bionte and one guardian.
As there were several stations in training, to each was given a number and a score was kept to encourage healthy competition between each team. As the old blue team already had the main elements, there were added only two forwards, and Cafar Jyen and Qoont mentale, completing then the station number twenty three.
Although Meneol have tried over the years to establish himself as a leader of the squadron, Galaniel exercised a natural leadership from the ring of Molodok. There was only a month to graduation and ultimately they would become full warriors. The fighting was fierce, as the first squadron was awarded the Citadel medal, maximum consecration to a new warrior.
Over the last month, all teams fought each other, when victory guarantee the ascent on the scoreboard. At the end of the penultimate day, the seventeen squadron was tied with the twenty three, leaving only one last battle to be fought. The winner would finish in first place on the scoreboard.
The buzz reigned in the dining room that night, when the other teams made their bets and predictions about who would win. The group was having dinner, as usual, on the table on the left corner of the coffee place, a strategic position that distanced a little from others and allowed to draft the strategy to fight on the next day. – I'm not hungry, my stomach feels like it's shrunk so I think that if I drink a glass of water, I’ll vomite – Inara vents. – I know how, the lid of my left eye does not stop shaking. I have to get to hold it by hand. It is unnerving – Cafar complements. – Calm down, it will be a workout like any other – Galaniel tries to reassure. – Yes, a workout that will give any right to the medal – Meneol bypasses angry. – It doesn’t point stay in this tension, we need to talk as we will fight tomorrow – Nirmiriel contemporizes.
Anyway, all agree and discuss the strategy to win the seventeen team that did not had guardian, being replaced by more a specialized mentale in defensive magic.
- Well, let's see if this will be right – Pelokir said.
– It was the best we think, I hope it's enough – Qoont concludes. The group decides to retire to rest because the next day promises to be very difficult.
When they are alone, Galaniel embraces Nirmiriel, saying: – do not worry if you do not win, it will not be the end of the world. The important thing is that we try. – Yes my love, I know, I think we have a good chance because we labored much in our training. Be what God wants – she concludes by looking to the Guardian, who hugs and kisses her effusively.
Time seems not pass until they hear a throat clearing behind them. – You need better disguise this flirtation – Feltam speaks with arched left eyebrow. The couple, bland, stands up quickly, looking for the coach of the guardians. – Galaniel, I like to have a word with you. – Yes, sir – the recruit replies, looking then to Nirmiriel, who nods and goes toward her bedroom.
When they are alone, Feltam start the conversation: – Galaniel, when you came here and talked for the first time, you were a chubby boy getting worried and maintain the good name of your father. I followed with satisfaction your change of boy to be the man you are today. I know that of all, you were the one who I demanded more... And you responded. Regardless of the classification that you and your team succeed tomorrow, know that I am proud to have been your coach and I am sure that your father also has it. – With teary eyes, struggling not to spill the tears that insist on wanting to leave, Galaniel replies: – thank you, coach. Knowing this made me very happy. I hope, really, I can match the legacy of my father and give pride to our Citadel, helping my brothers to fight those damned infernal.
The coach puts his left hand on the shoulder of Galaniel in approval and stretched out his right pursuant speaks: – good luck tomorrow. I'll be cheering squad by twenty three, but if you ask me, I have no preference – Feltam smils slightly while Galaniel, also smiling, shakes his hands with the coach, answered: – Of course, sir.
Both nod and each goes his way. Halfway through the next day, the two stations are, each on one side, in the training ring and the coach approaches the center.
- This is the last workout with score, the team that remains standing at the end is the winner and, as scores of both win our score. Fight with courage and honor. – Courage and Honor! – both teams respond. Feltam pulls away and climbs a small gallery to observe and better judge the fight. He prepares to sound the beginning bell.
The teams are already placed according to their strategies. The tension takes enclosure account, where other stations are gathered around the room, to see the last clash. The bell rings and the fight begins. The seventeen squadron chooses to attack early on when their mentales conjure hedgehogs light and run forwards in attack, with the bionte near the defensive mentale.
Although spells and other powers were real, the hall had a reducing charm, at which participants suffered only minor injuries and were paralyzed as the coup. Foreseeing that his opponents would make the first attack, the absence of a guardian, Galaniel put his three forwards creating a front barrier, while mentales attacked with electrical spells.
The bionte stayed by the guardian, healing the forwards who received the direct impact of the enemy. So Galaniel, looking to Nirmiriel, says: – now! – The mentale creates a flash of blinding light, while his team closes his eyes.
The opponents are temporarily blinded and stunned, Meneol advances and directly attacks the enemy bionte, putting him out of action. Redone from the attack, the enemy fleet closes and attacks Meneol everywhere. Galaniel recites the mantra: – Won Guan Ti – his shield glitters and he goes at breakneck speed against the fleet that attacked around. While the opponents have seen the attack and prepared for defense, the impact is so great that one of the forwards is thrown over one of mentales with such force that both faint.
Taking advantage of the loophole, Meneol stands behind the guardian of the shield, which suffers the onslaught of what remains of seventeen team, and all recede gradually, until their team while Pelokir extends the protective field to the half way to protect them. Before they can get, one of the forwards hurls his spear against the guardian, dodging his shield and opening a gash in Galaniel’s right arm.
Pelokir moves his arms, chanting a healing spell, helping the wounded guardian. Returning all the formations and in greater numbers and broke down the bionte of the enemy team, it is now the turn of the fleet twenty-three start their attack. – Arrowhead! – The guardian controls and the three forwards take the training, with mentales in the middle. – Attack – Galaniel speaks, falling behind, protecting Pelokir, which, in turn, continues to cure his arm.
The group attacks as if they were all one. The opponents, who had taken a half-moon formation, try to resist the onslaught, but without success. The arrow goes through the group, opening a gap in the enemy's defenses. When they exceed their training, Nirmiriel, Inara and Qoont conjure their light hedgehogs, reaching all the enemy group before they could defend themmselves and all fall helpless to the ground, knocked out.
The other stations, watching the fight around the room, burst into cheers and applause with the end of the fight. The two teams shake hands and the score changes, highlighting the squad twenty-three as winner of workouts that cycle. The group will celebrate in the coffee place, followed by all the other teams. Once there, a feast awaits them, washed down with wheat beer.
All take place at the tables and standing with the glasses on top, they wait for the toast. – For the Twenty-Three squad – the coaches of all castes speak with one voice, answered by all others – Twenty-three! Twenty three! Twenty-three – Courage and Honor! – Again toast coaches and again comes the answer.
The celebration is long and plentiful. Gradually the recruits will retire to the rooms, some already drunk, being helped by others a little less, until only are the winners. – It was a hell of a fight – Pelokir comments. – I thought we would lose – Cafar adds. – I did not. I knew we would win – Inara brags. – It was lucky that strategy work – Meneol teases. – Better than your in the ring, no? – Nirmiriel responds, making him shut up.
Galaniel stands, the high mug: – tomorrow will be our graduation, I do not know if we would be together. I would say it was an honor to have fought in the Twenty-Three squad. – All rise, with the high and mugs, mugs when they hit each other, the group toasts: – Twenty-three! – They drink the rest of the beer and walk towards the bedroom. As always, the guardian and the mentale left behind. – Look at this dating there, huh, little brother – Inara speaks aloud, already out of the way, implying. – Go to sleep, little sister, but you will create wrinkles – the brother responds in fun. When they are alone, Nirmiriel looks Galaniel’s arm with concern. – Does it still hurt? – Only when I breathe – he responds with a smile – Is... Neither went to war and I have a scar on each arm. I'm not the one you met on probation. – Yes, each protects a member of his team. – As it goes, I will become a patchwork quilt. – Leave of nonsense, because you know that women like men with scars. – And are you one of them? – Nirmiriel responds only with a sensual smile. Galaniel then hugs her, wrapping her in his arms, kissing her deeply. His fingers go up the back of his loved one to get his neck, locking them in blond hairs, while the light of the full moon reflects in them its silver rays.
The next day evil will shine and the training halls were abuzz. The ceremony of graduation was a great event, when those family members who could, came to the Citadel to see their children graduate and, to give the last goodbye before they go to the front. The city streets were full of travelers and the final preparations were being made to receive the crowd that always attended.
Galaniel had done his morning hygiene and was preparing his best clothes to wear at graduation. Several other recruits polished their armor, sent by their families, during the last year of training as an incentive. So Temar enters burst open in the room and talk to Galaniel: - they are calling you out there. Feltam sent me warn you.
Quickly, Galaniel wears the clothes he had chosen and heads into the courtyard of the Citadel. Ne
xt to a beautiful covered wagon, pulled by two stately horses are Boldar, Eushaniel and her sisters, including Inara, who jumped with happiness and hugged Boldar’s neck. - Thank you! Thank you! – he spoke also embracing his mother.
At their feet it was a campaign chest and now he comes close, he could see a stand with a brand new light armor, of tacked and reinforced tanned choir, with small plates of amalgam mended in key defense points: chest, arms and thighs. A half-helmet covered his eyes, reaching the nose, and a scarlet cloak, completed the picture.
The guardian approaches and Boldar reaches out his hand in greeting, matched by Galaniel. - You are a grown man. Neither seems that chubby guy who had left home a few years ago. I see you has some brands of combat. – Yes, they were good years. Difficult, but worth it. – Then he turns to his mother, who opens her arms to receive him. Immediately, Galaniel hugs and a stubborn tear rolls on her face. – God bless you, my son! – Amen, my mother. – What gave they you to eat here? It seems that I embraced a rock. – He just smiled. – So? They came to see graduation? – Do not miss it for anything – Boldar responds. – And we could not let you graduate without consistent armor. As Inara armor was very expensive, we got a second hand to you, I hope you do not mind. – Of course not. No need to have bought anything. The Citadel will provide a standard armor when I go to the battlefront – Nope, my godson will not use rusty and cracked armor, recycled battles. – Eushaniel, who was still holding the hand of Galaniel leads to the back of the wain, facing the side of the sun. – I hope you like it my son, it was the best we found. – Then he pulls the tissue which covered the inside of the wain.