El-Vador's Travels (48 page)

E
l-Vador's
power continued to grow as the ensuing months passed under the
tutelage of the Brothers. It was not only his mind that he exercised,
his body felt better than it ever had before thanks to his morning
training regimen that other recruits scoffed at. He knew that the
corporeal mattered little in the ongoing war between the Brotherhood
and their enemies, but that wasn't what he was training for.

In
his mind this interlude was an opportunity, a chance to harness the
wild power that sporadically arrived upon the voice's command. His
ability to summon a limited degree of said power had manifested
itself thanks to the teachings of the Brothers. He was left
constantly wondering whether it was because of his own capabilities
or if the voice decreed he should display as much for the sake of his
training.

At
times the power coursed through him, and he could sense every being
within this subterranean domain, other times it offered him entirely
different capabilities that he had yet to exploit. It was as if the
voice was displaying the potential and the Brothers were examining
that through each lesson that his power grew.

As a
result of the intensity of Sanctuary life and the constant scrutiny
he was under, El-Vador found he had less time to consult the
archives. He cursed that there were only so many hours in the day,
but he knew that it was better to be well-trained in the usage of
power than have an in-depth knowledge of a place he cared little for.
What little information about power he had already gleaned from his
reading seemed to be the height of the knowledge contained within.

Out
of necessity more than desire he found himself spending more time
with his fellow recruits, and began to notice the subtle undercurrent
of competition that pervaded their attitudes. The Brothers did
nothing about this, apparently having the recruits strive against
each other improved their training.

El-Vador’s
fast progress had brought him on a par with many of the students in
terms of ability, and it appeared that they were beginning to take
notice of this new recruit and speculate not quite silently enough
about just how far this strange young creature would go.

It
was through such eavesdropping that he discovered the duelling pit. A
huge bowl-like structure he had yet to see in which the recruits
challenged each other with their mastery of the power until
submission.

Few
of the students spoke openly about the place, perhaps there was an
exclusivity to it that El-Vador was unaware of, or perhaps only the
most foolhardy and confident of recruits risked a potential mishap
against a competitor.

One
of the few group exercises lent credence to the existence of such a
place, the destructive and gruelling lessons led by the
curiously-named Brother Chlodochar.

Sweat
stung his eyes as the darkness continued to gush out of him onto a
small concentrated patch of rock. Chlodochar had been impressed with
his efforts thus far but had informed him in no uncertain terms that
he needed focus in addition to his raw power. Apparently attaining a
focal point was much harder than simply blasting out indiscriminately
as he had achieved when fighting the monster in the pit of Harg's
burrow. Thinking again of the Orcs almost disrupted the flow of his
energies, causing them to slip away from the rock and disrupt the
ground nearby.

'Wrong!'
Chlodochar suddenly barked in that gravelly inhuman voice of his. He
had been walking up and down as they trained, but had now stopped
right beside El-Vador. 'You have power but not the precision! You are
distracted!' He reached out and seized El-Vador’s wrist,
causing the Elf to relinquish his hold on the power. 'You must learn
focus!' he snapped. 'There is no room for other thoughts, your mind
must be on the task alone!'

He
stayed at El-Vador’s side for several seconds, watching to
ensure the lesson had been properly learned, but with the Brother
scrutinising every move the Elf made he could not recapture the focus
of before. The creature, for he was certain that Chlodochar was
neither human, Orc nor Elf, gave a disgusted bark and walked off.

Stung
by the dismissal, El-Vador repeated the task long after the other
recruits had departed.

Chlodochar
had spotted a potentially fatal flaw in El-Vador’s technique.
Now El-Vador was determined to fix it, even if it meant hours of
practice on his own time. He was relentless in his pursuit of
perfection, not just in the mastery of his power but in all his
studies that he saw as just an extension of that.

'Enough,'
Chlodochar’s voice eventually called out. They were alone
together, he hadn't noticed that the Brother had been watching him.
'You have improved, Elf.' he said, the words sounding strangely
phrased as if the tongue were almost beyond him. 'It is time for you
to be shown the pit.'

He
followed the Brother's shuffling robes in a trance as he made his way
into strange and unexplored areas of the Sanctuary, finally opening
up into a huge cave that housed a giant oval structure within.

He
heard the sounds of movement around him; the soft shuffle of robes as
the other Brothers made their way to the arena. Chlodochar's path
converged with these Brothers and he spoke with them in his guttural
voice as they made their way inside.

The
giant oval was simply hewn out of rock, providing rudimentary seating
for the various brothers in attendance and no other entrances or
exits that he could discern. From what he had heard, any student or
brother could step into the centre of this oval and issue a challenge
to another. Chlodochar remained in the centre of the arena,
apparently as some form of adjudicator. El-Vador had no doubts that
the creature would be analysing every duel with the utmost scrutiny.

The
recruits were all sat in the front row, their crimson robes differing
slightly from that of the Brothers now that El-Vador paid them closer
attention. Chlodochar stepped into the middle of the arena and barked
for the challenges to begin.

El-Vador
stepped into the centre before anyone else could make a move,
eliciting a grunt of approval from the adjudicator.

'I
challenge Shimon.' he announced in ringing tones.

'Accepted.'
came the reply from the front row of the crowd. His fellow recruits
parting with a rustle of robes to afford him space. Chlodochar gave a
slight bow to each combatant and stepped to the clearing’s edge
to give them room.

Shimon
was a human, looking much like Salvarius had been when the Elf had
first seen him, not that he could easily distinguish one human from
another. The same Salvarius who had been so taciturn about the
details of his allegiance and had nearly cost El-Vador his life. It
was all the motivation he needed.

As
the rest of the Brothers and recruits watched in silence, the two
combatants circled each other in the ring, waiting for each to make
their move. El-Vador's heightened battle senses picked up on the
breathing of his opponent in the deathly silence, he could sense the
nervousness of the man.

El-Vador
screamed, thrusting his hands out palm-forward even as Shimon did the
same gesture. Dark energy erupted from his open palm to catch his
opponent before he could summon his own, hurling him back to the edge
of the crowd where he landed at Chlodochar’s feet.

The
Brother watched with an intrigued but wary expression. El-Vador
slowly clenched his fist and began walking over, that first blast had
completely incapacitated the human. On the ground before him, Shimon
was writhing in agony, clutching at his throat and gasping for
breath.

El-Vador
had nothing to say to his helpless opponent. He squeezed his fist
harder, feeling the energies swirl about him and impact upon Shimon
once more in an intoxicating manner as they slowly devoured the life
of his foe. Shimon's heels pounded out a strange rhythm on the
arena's stone floor as his body convulsed.

'Enough,
El-Vador,' Chlodochar said in a cold, croaking voice. Though he stood
so close to the death throes of his student, his eyes were fixed on
the application of power from the one still standing.

A
final surge of power roared up in the core of El-Vador’s being
and exploded out into the world. In response, Shimon’s body
went stiff and his eyes rolled back in his head before being devoured
entirely by the darkness to leave nothing but smoke. El-Vador finally
released his energies and faced Chlodochar. 'Now it is enough,' he
said, proceeding to turn his back on the creature and walk toward the
exit of the arena. He didn’t need to look back to know that
Chlodochar was watching him with great interest.

The brothers
nurtured my powers, augmented my lethal capabilities with their
knowledge. It would become their undoing in the end.

E
l-Vador
woke to the sound of a small note being passed under his door.
Apparently
Brother Manilus wanted to speak with him,
interesting.

He
strode through the virtually empty halls of the Sanctuary toward the
meeting, his outward appearance calm and confident. Inside his mind
wondered at the potential repercussions for his outright killing of
Shimon.

He
knew that the duels were supposed to test the recruits, to test their
resolve and mastery of the power against each other rather than
inanimate objects. He also knew that it certainly wasn't meant to be
fatal. The Brotherhood were at war against an unknown other, they
couldn't afford to destroy each other.

In
killing Shimon, El-Vador had destroyed a potential Brother. In his
own way he had dealt a direct blow to the war effort, even if there
was no way of calculating to what degree the damage said blow had
caused it. He suspected he would be punished severely, and more than
ever before he wished he knew a way out of this accursed place.

He
felt no guilt in his actions and no great fear of Brother Manilus,
who knew of the Elf's potential and would not sacrifice it due to
disobedience, even of this magnitude.

He
knocked sharply at the door, then opened it when the command to enter
came from within. Manilus was kneeling in the centre of the chamber,
deep in meditation.

'Chlodochar
told me what happened yesterday,' he said, not opening his eyes. 'He
tells me you are responsible for Shimon’s death.' the tone of
his voice was indiscernible.

'I
am.' El-Vador answered calmly. 'Shimon was weaker than I expected, I
dealt with him accordingly.'

'Chlodochar
told you to cease,' Manilus countered. 'He says you paid him no heed.
It is one thing to defeat an opponent in the arena. You killed him in
cold blood and directly disobeyed the orders of your better.'

El-Vador
shrugged insolently. 'Chlodochar should have stopped me then.'

Manilus
rose to his feet and eyed the Elf with an unreadable expression on
his face. 'Brother Chlodochar wanted to see what would happen. He
wanted to see how you would act in that situation.'

'And
now that I have acted, are you going to punish me for doing so?'
El-Vador asked.

Manilus
shook his head. 'The Brother informed me that yours is a power unlike
any he has seen.'

The
words were punctuated with a faint chuckling of the voice in the
Elf's head, if only Manilus knew the truth.

'Shimon’s
death may turn out to be a minor loss if it helps you to achieve your
full potential. You may well be the key to our war effort against the
others, as a result you shall not be disciplined.'

Manilus
gave a dismissive wave of his hand, then settled back onto his
meditation mat as El-Vador turned to go. He had been absolved of his
crime, given a pardon because of his power and potential.

'No!'
Chlodochar growled at him disdainfully later that day. 'You are
holding back, that is not the power I witnessed yesterday!'

'I
am trying.' El-Vador replied through gritted teeth.

'Trying?'
the creature repeated, his voice cutting into El-Vador's hearing as
incisively as any blade would his flesh. 'You did not try against
Shimon, why try now?'

'I
must learn control, to do so requires a great degree of
concentration.'

Chlodochar
spat on the ground. 'Forget that! It matters little now with one such
as you. You cannot control this force any more than you can the
raging tides battering this Sanctuary!'

El-Vador
knew not what tides were, but the analogy made sense to him because
of the attributed words.

'You
are not one for surgical incision. Instead you must call upon the
power to destroy your enemies and it shall! Much like it did to
Shimon.'

He
clenched his jaw to prevent himself from biting off a remark,
El-Vador did not know whether the constant references to the dead
recruit were goading or instructional and thus could only remain
silent.

'Return
only when you stop holding back.' Chlodochar muttered, abandoning the
Elf and focusing on others.

El-Vador
shuffled slowly down the corridor, though his measured pace was one
of choice rather than necessity. He trudged on through these various
halls, head down, making his way to the archives located in the
depths of the Sanctuary.

Not
surprisingly, the massive room was empty save for the rows of shelves
stacked with manuscripts haphazardly arranged and then forgotten. Few
recruits bothered to come here. Why waste time contemplating the
wisdom of the ancients when you could study at the feet of an actual
Brother in the here and now?

It
wasn’t permissible for recruits to remove records from the
archive room, so El-Vador did all his reading there. Even in the
dustiest of tomes he had found small kernels of deeper wisdom he had
claimed for his own.