Age of the Gods: The Complete, twelve novel, fantasy series (The Blood and Brotherhood Saga) (41 page)

Zorbin looked around the armory with the eyes of a master smith. It was dwarven tradition that all males learned to create the best of weapons and armor. Zorbin, though an oddity among his race, was included in this custom. He noted the quality of the weapons held within this arsenal and knew that not a single piece of steel contained here had been forged by human hands. Some of the weapons were of elven design, but most were of dwarven creation.

Zorbin could not help but to be impressed with the knights’ cache of fine weapons. For him it was an honor to choose an item from among them. It was also his intention to stay true to all of his passions, one of the strongest of which was swinging the hammer in a forge. So it was with much careful thought that Zorbin approached a gem of a weapon across the room.

This specimen had caught his eye early, and he felt drawn to it and so chose to handle it and see if it was a proper fit for him. Removing the hammer from its rack, Zorbin tested it for both weight and balance. As expected, it was finely crafted by a master smith among the dwarves. Zorbin hefted the massive hammer to take a look at the engravings upon it to see if he recognized the work. It was indeed crafted in a familiar style, but the specific creator remained unknown to Zorbin. He was able to wield the massive battle hammer one-handed, even though it was designed for both hands. The head of the hammer was crafted as a large steel block with squat spikes fastened into the striking surfaces. A thick shaft of the same steel protruded from the head, slowly tapering to the handle where the steel was wrapped with leather. From the bottom of the handle a large ball of steel made up the butt of the weapon and from the ball protruded one long, slender spike. The entire weapon was engraved in silver with dwarven symbols of strength, power, honor and integrity, and it was polished to a lustrous sheen that made the surface appear to be wet though no moisture was present in the room.

Having chosen their arms, both of the young men turned and headed for the door where Sirus stood watching them.

“Ah, I had expected as much Garret, as I remember well your own broadsword. However Zorbin, I had expected you to choose an axe for some reason,” Sirus admitted.

“Indeed an axe is a common choice among my people, but I feel more at home with a hammer in my hand,” Zorbin replied in his thick, deep voice.

Sirus led them out of the room and back down the hall. They exited through the main door and headed east. As they passed the end of the knights’ keep, Xanth padded up to them having already made his way outside somehow. The giant wolf fell into step beside his master and the four continued walking toward the sparring grounds. It was not a long walk, and as they approached, they could see Philip upon the field. He was kneeling over something on the ground and appeared to be sorting through it as they came within speaking distance.

“Were you able to find them appropriate equipment?” Sirus asked Philip as they neared.

“As you might expect, Garret’s was easy, Zorbin’s a bit more complicated. I hope it fits him well enough for today and we can have it altered if need be,” Philip responded.

“Well, they won’t be doing any actual sparring until they are ready. I just want them used to the mail,” Sirus replied.

The three men and the wolf all stopped as they joined Philip on the field. Before Philip sat two neat piles of items upon the grass. Each pile contained a padded leather jerkin and a chainmail tunic with a coif. Zorbin paid the armor little attention as he was accustomed to seeing it in every variation, but his new friend, Garret, lifted and inspected the mail with a keen interest.

“Suit up, guys. We need to get started,” Sirus told them.

Zorbin quickly put on the padded jerkin and watched as Garret followed his lead. After lacing up the jerkins they then pulled on the mail.

Garret soon realized the mail was heavier than he remembered, though not heavy enough to hinder his ability to move freely by a noticeable margin. He tested it thoroughly, moving his joints and swinging his arms to try and anticipate any limits the armor might impose upon his body. Finding none, Garret waited quietly for instruction. While they were dressing in the armor, Sirus and Philip had walked a short distance away to discuss something in private and each spoke in turn to one another. Finishing their discussion, they returned to their newly armored charges and each had a mischievous look upon his face as they again approached.

“We have decided upon a means to quickly train you in combat arms. We will first show you how to properly wield your weapon. We will teach you the many ways to attack and defend using the weapon of your choosing. This portion of your training would usually last several weeks, however we hope to cover it all in two days. It will be two very long days, but if you learn quickly, and you memorize that which we show you, then you will be ready for the next phase of your battle training.” Sirus’s wicked grin returned with the last sentence. “Garret you go with Philip, and Zorbin you stay here with me.”

Sirus was already explaining different techniques of battle hammer wielding to the dwarf when Garret and Philip strode across the field. Once out of earshot, and when they had enough room to train separately from the others, Philip stopped and rounded on Garret.

“I’m not supposed to say anything, but I often alter the rules to make sure I win. I have two days to teach you all I can about the broadsword. Then on the fourth day you will spar with Zorbin. Sirus is curious which one of you will triumph, and he thinks it the best way for you to learn more quickly,” Philip said quietly.

“That only accounts for days one, two and four. What are we to do on day three?” Garret asked, unsure if he had misheard.

“Ah, you do have a quick mind! That is good. You will learn quickly enough, but in answer to your question I am afraid that you will only know what happens on day three when it arrives. For now I need you to focus on the lesson at hand,” Philip smiled wickedly.

Thus begun two very long days indeed. In the following forty-eight hours, Garret learned every offensive and defensive move possible with his chosen weapon. He too learned how to use every inch of their weapon to its full potential. Instead of stopping for food or sleep, they trained through the hunger and through two nights and into the early hours of the third morning. Despite the lack of rest and nutrition, the training felt quite easy to Garret in comparison to running stairs with a barrel on his back. That being so, even after the full two days had passed and his training completed, Garret felt awake and full of energy. He had done his best to commit everything to memory. He did not want to disappoint Philip who was training him, nor Sirus the leader of the knights. He focused on the battle with Zorbin to come, a battle he intended to win.

Zorbin did not feel weary or taxed in any way either. He concentrated on the lesson being taught to him and memorized every action of his teacher. None of them had left the field in more than two days, and that included the giant black and gray wolf Xanth. He rested now, as he had the entire time, in the middle of the field, his eyes and ears alert, watching the men as they trained. He still watched as the men finished their practice and crossed the field to meet again in the middle to speak, just paces away from the wolf.

“Is Garret ready?” Sirus asked.

“I believe him to be,” Philip replied. “How about Zorbin?” Philip then asked sounding a bit cocky.

“He learns very quickly, I think him quite able,” Sirus responded. He turned to the new knights. “How do you guys feel after such a long exercise?”

“I feel fine,” Garret said simply.

“I am ready to continue,” stated Zorbin with his dwarven accent.

“Then we shall continue as planned. Today’s lesson is on fear. Today you will learn to not fear battle, and to not fear taking a blow. The only way to overcome a fear is to face it or experience it. Today I am afraid you will probably sustain injury. You may break a bone, perhaps several. Chances are you will leave much blood on the field. But do not worry, we have Daniella standing by if her services are required,” Sirus explained with a very serious expression. “Garret, you and I will spar today. Zorbin, you will be sparring with Philip. Hold nothing back. If you see an opportunity, take it. We will give you no concessions today. Remember well what you have learned in the past two days and use it. After all, there is a chance to leave the field today without injury. All you have to do is defeat us,” Sirus concluded.

Garret’s mood deteriorated in an instant. He knew well that some day he would receive an injury in battle. Chances were he would receive many. Never had he imagined though that with only two days’ worth of training he would be facing probably the most feared and respected opponent in all of Valdadore, perhaps the whole of Thurr. Garret had not feared injury before but he certainly did now. Before the announcement, getting hurt in battle was a possibility with an unknown time or place. Now, however, injury was nearly guaranteed and Garret could find no way to look forward to it. Apparently his thoughts showed plainly upon his face.

“Courage, Garret, today you face a normal man. Philip and I will not be using our blessings. This is just a test of what you have learned, and a lesson on controlling your emotions in the heat of battle,” Sirus stated.

This new knowledge had the intended effect and Garret actually felt better about the coming fight. Man to man, Sirus and he were nearly equal in size. Sirus obviously had experience on his side, but Garret had youth. Without his blessing, Garret thought, Sirus was just another man. Surely he could best him, or in the very least hold his own.

Realizing it was to be a fair fight boosted Garret’s confidence ten-fold. He quickly planned his fight. Using speed to his advantage, he would try to wear Sirus out. If he could constantly be on the offensive, Sirus would be forced to counter all of his blows. When the older man was tired, Garret was sure he could achieve victory.

Garret’s simple plan was finalized in his mind as he watched Philip lead Zorbin across the field where he himself had been only a short time ago. Returning his attention to the man he was to battle, Garret observed as Sirus unsheathed a long broadsword of his own. The older man took a few steps back, and flexing his knees he raised the large sword directly above his head. Garret recognized the stance as one he had been taught that could be used both to attack and to defend. Sirus was keeping his own intentions a secret.

“Whenever you are ready, young hunter,” Sirus said with an expression as smooth as glass on his face.

Garret pulled the long blade from the sheath strapped to his back and mimicked the stance of his opponent. Lunging forward, Garret brought his massive blade down in a powerful arc aimed at Sirus’s shoulder. Sirus dropped to one knee, buying him valuable fractions of a second before the blow would land. Sweeping across with his sword at the same time, it connected with Garret’s blade, driving it wide of its mark, cutting nothing but air. Garret had not anticipated the move, and the momentum of his swing being interrupted caught him off guard and caused him to lose his balance just briefly. It was all the time Sirus needed to recover from the blow and launch one of his own. Following the arc his blade had made when he used it to defend himself, Sirus allowed the weight of the steel to carry the blade down and around and again past Garret. When the blade was clear of Garret, Sirus quickly jerked it back in the direction it had swung from. Thrusting it, he drove the flat edge of his sword into the back of Garret’s knee.

Garret yelped not so much in pain as surprise when the sword struck. Already off balance the blow drove Garret’s knee to the ground. Collecting his thoughts, Garret reeled back to his feet and rounded on his master, just in time to see another blow sweeping through the air at chest level. Garret nearly did not respond in time. Raising his sword as quickly as he was able, Garret deflected the blow, but not entirely. Though Sirus’s blade did not strike him directly, it glanced off his own blade, slamming into his left shoulder. Pain exploded through Garret’s body. The blow had not pierced his mail, but it had landed true enough to cause damage.

Garret had to rethink his strategy. Sirus was obviously not slowed by his age, a mistake Garret was learning from quickly. Instead of keeping the older knight on the defensive as he had planned, it seemed the roles had been reversed from the beginning. If Garret did not alter his tactics quickly he was not likely to last long.

As Garret and Sirus both recovered from the last bout, Garret revised his approach. He recovered a fraction of a second before Sirus, but did not launch his own counter attack. Instead he used this one moment to watch the older knight’s movements. As Sirus again arced his blade through the air towards Garret, it was met with a prepared defense. This time Garret was easily able to deflect the blow with the tip of his blade. When the blow was diverted, he then stepped closer to the older man and, changing his grip upon his massive sword, he drove the pommel home into the center of Sirus’s chest. Garret had landed a blow, though not with his blade, but he had hit his mark and heard well his opponent’s sudden loss of breath. It was a small victory, but it was one he had earned.

Again Garret took the defensive and waited for Sirus to attack. It only took a second for the man to recover, and when he did, he launched another attack from overhead. Garret saw the assault coming and raised his sword to deflect yet another of the man’s blows. Garret was not prepared for what happened next, however. Just as the momentum from Sirus’s swing would have brought their swords crashing together, the older man twisted his torso and altered the path of his blade. Twisting his wrist and stepping slightly aside, Sirus’s blade swung down and around Garret’s defense. Because Sirus had had to alter his momentum and angle of attack, much of the swing’s power was lost, but he still dealt a great blow. Sirus’s sword drove deep into Garret’s thigh, only stopping when it hit bone.

Mind-numbing, agonizing pain assaulted Garret’s senses as the cut and torn muscle fibers and blood vessels pulled apart from one another opening the rend in his leg further. His first reaction was a mix between a yelp of surprise and a snarl of rage as bile rose in his throat. Blood gushed out from the wound in copious amounts and every time he placed weight upon it, a fresh shot of pain followed. Garret mentally washed the pain away, much as he had done during his stamina training. Where it had previously filled his mind now was numbness and rage.

He recovered from the blow more slowly than he would have liked to, but was still able to deflect the next assault. Bleeding like he was, Garret knew his time was limited. It would not be long before the loss of blood would weaken him and his vision would begin to fade. Garret had to end the battle quickly. Sirus had dealt him a great amount of damage, limiting his ability to move quickly, but he had also done something else entirely. He had taught Garret that he did not necessarily need to stick with all the maneuvers he had been taught by Philip, but he could alter them depending upon the situation. It was a risk to leave yourself exposed as Sirus had done, attacking like he had. However, without risks, how could one enjoy the reward?

Garret deflected yet another blow and then Sirus attacked again with a mighty downward swing. Garret knew if he tried to block it the way he had done before he would likely get a matching injury to his other leg. Acting almost on instinct, instead of blocking the strike, Garret let it come at him, as if he would make no attempt to thwart his opponent. Waiting until the very last fraction of a second, Garret rolled his shoulder back as far as he could thus causing the blow that was aimed to cleave his arm at the shoulder to slide down the front of his mail tunic. Sparks rained from the blow as steel met steel and Garret could not help but grin, having escaped the blow. As Sirus corrected for the momentum of his sword, Garret lashed out viciously with a wide swing of his own blade.

Sirus had obviously not anticipated the move from his injured pupil and was caught off guard as Garret’s blade tore through his arm and chest, breaking one of his ribs. Garret realized then that pain did not affect Sirus as it did normal men. As a grizzled veteran who had received nearly every type of weapon-related injury known to man in battle, the blow Garret dealt him barely slowed him down.

Blood gushed from both Garret and Sirus but now it was again an even match. Garret could not easily move or shuffle his weight, but Sirus was forced to wield his huge sword with only one arm. Garret was well aware that the next man to land a blow would likely gain an advantage that would lead him to victory, yet neither was yet ready to give the other that opportunity. As both men labored to keep pace with one another, they each bled profusely upon the ground, its surface becoming slick with gore. Each of them was sweating heavily. Neither would relent

Fighting on, both foes struck out time after time at each other, yet found no openings. Again and again their blows were deflected. Sirus often changed his style of fighting from fast ferocious blows to slower, more precise strikes, but Garret was an apt pupil. He managed to quickly adapt and find a defensive style for each of Sirus’s attacks. The older man would now win easily.

Garret fought on for what felt like hours, neither gaining or losing any ground. His wounds refused to stop bleeding with the constant exertion, but the flow had slowed to a trickle. Garret was light headed, his vision blurred at the edges, his limbs heavy. Yet he refused to give in to defeat. He attacked time and again as the occasion presented itself, but it was to no avail. Every swing of his blade was greeted by Sirus’s defense. It was only a matter of time, though, and as such he would not give up.

Garret thus far had been able to thwart every one of his leader’s attacks, but he was unsure how much longer he would last if the blood continued to flow. He knew if he did not end the match in a few minutes time it would end when he passed out. His muscles ached from the exertion, his leg was nearly useless, but he was not yet spent. Garret mustered all of his strength. It was time to take another risk.

Deflecting yet another attack from Sirus, Garret waited patiently for the next swing to come. He lifted his blade high above his head in a stance that prepared him for both offense and defense. He had used the stance several times and knew it would not give away his intentions. As anticipated, Sirus swung his sword hard in a horizontal line aiming at Garret's abdomen. Garret waited until Sirus was beyond the point of no return, then, with all his might, he drove his blade down through the air. Both men landed their blows. Both blows ended the battle. Neither would be able to continue. As Sirus’s blade ripped through Garret’s side rending apart flesh and muscle and nearly half of his lower organs, Garret’s blade removed Sirus’s ear and continued down the side of his neck to cleave through the man’s collar bone, several ribs and his lung. Both men released their swords.

Garret, dropping his blade, attempted to hold his organs inside his abdomen before falling heavily to the ground with a sickening thud. Still conscious, he watched as Sirus released his own blade, though not of his own volition. Garret’s attack had nearly completely removed his good arm from his body all the way up to his collar bone. Though it was not precisely a victory, Garret had not lost

With shadows filling his vision, all sounds became muted, and he wished for much deserved rest. Sirus, on the other hand, though his lungs were damaged, managed to yell for Daniella to come see to their wounds before collapsing to the grass and blood covered ground. The battle was a draw. It had not been the victory Garret had hoped to claim, but he had matched a man with years of battle experience, and neither of them had lost or won. With his vision failing, the world consumed by shadows, Garret blacked out.