Forgotten Mage (13 page)

Bren’s mind didn’t even have time to
comprehend what was happening as Jacob grabbed him by the arm and
led him from the room. He hadn’t even been able to get used to the
Tower yet and now he would have to train. Even though he wasn’t
overly pleased with the idea, he still felt a tingle of excitement
in getting to train with a real Katanaga Weapons Master.

Bren followed quietly behind Jacob as
the large warrior led him back toward the training grounds.
Everything was still dark, without even a hit of the sun on the
horizon. “You will be here every morning before the sun rises to
help maintain the weapons and armor used for practice. If you miss
a single day, I will have you scrubbing them at night as well…do
you understand?” Jacob asked as they neared the training grounds.
Bren didn’t answer, choosing instead to nod his head.

“I can’t hear a head shake boy, I
expect an answer when I am talking to you…this isn’t the Tower
where everyone dresses in robes and will coddle you when you make a
mistake. If you mess up here, then you will mess up during a
battle, and that will cost lives. I would suggest you keep that in
mind.”

“Here we are. The other trainees are
already inside cleaning, so I suggest you get in there and give
them a hand,” Jacob said, pushing Bren through the door and into a
large building.

It took a few moments for Bren’s eyes
to adjust to the low light, but as it did, he could see hundreds of
swords and armor hanging on the walls. Bren was amazed at the
selection. They had everything from simple daggers to some exotic
weapons that looked as if they would be impossible to
wield.

“Who are you?” A boy, about his age
with sandy blonde hair and light brown skin asked.

“Bren,” Bren answered, sticking out his
hand.

The other boy looked at Bren closely
and gave a snort. “Why are you here, the Tower is on the other side
of town?”

“Weapons Master Jacob told me that this
is where I should be. Cleaning weapons I believe,” Bren answered
politely.

The other boy threw a large shield at
Bren, then a rag. “Try not to get your dress dirty,” The boy said
laughing, which was quickly joined by the other boys in the
room.

Bren took a quick look around and
noticed more than twenty others, all who seemed to be enjoying his
discomfort. He had never been around many children his own age and
didn’t quite understand the boy’s resentment toward him. Without
saying a word, Bren took a seat on the ground and began polishing
the heavy shield. He had spent countless hours cleaning weapons
before, it was his weapons trainers go to move for when he made a
mistake.

After making sure that the shield was
free of rust, and that the leather straps on the back were well
oiled and none of them were damaged, Bren placed the shield back on
the wall and grabbed the next thing he could find. This continued
until the door opened again, and Jacob yelled that it was time to
eat.

“Bren, Merck, Tomas, you will be
serving today so go wash yourselves up,” Jacob yelled. Bren quickly
followed the other two boy’s, still unsure of where to go. Their
idea of washing up, was a large bucket filled with near freezing
water and a small cloth. Bren did his best to remove the smell of
oil from his hands, but was forced to give up as the other boys
rushed back toward the rest of the group who were hungrily awaiting
their arrival.

Bren was placed serving what appeared
to be eggs, while the other two boys served a meat like substance
and mashed potatoes. After everyone else was fed, the three boys
filled their own plates and no sooner had they sat down then the
weapon master started yelling for them to hurry up. Bren watched as
the other two boys took two slices of bread and placed as much food
as they could between them before choking it down in the blink of
an eye. Bren tried to copy them, but found it a much more
challenging task than it looked. His stomach still growling, Bren
was forced to throw half his food away and join the others who were
already forming up in straight lines.

Jacob walked past every boy, checking
them closely and pointing out small things, such as buttons on
their uniforms that were not shined correctly or boots that looked
too dull. Any boy who seemed to have made the slightest mistake in
his attire was forced to do pushups, the number seeming arbitrary
to Bren.

When Jacob reached him, the Weapons
Master’s eyes widened and Bren could see the veins in his neck
popping out. Then in a heartbeat, the man’s face was only inches
from his own. “What in the nine hells do you think you’re doing
boy? Where is your uniform?”

“You didn’t give me one sir,” Bren
answered, more than a little shocked.

“So it is my fault that you don’t have
half the brain to notice that everyone else was wearing the same
thing? And who are you calling sir? Do I look like some little man
sitting behind a counter, counting coins? I work for a living. You
will address me as Weapons Master, am I understood? Now, I want to
you drop and push until I get tired.”

Not understanding what was happening,
Bren did as he had been instructed. When his arms started to burn
and large drops of sweat began to bead on his forehead, he arched
his back. “Weapons Master, may I get up?” Bren asked in a strained
voice.

“Don’t tell me you’re already tired,
you haven’t even done one pushup yet. If you had, I am sure you
would have at least called it out loud, or do you expect me to
stand here the whole time and count for you?”

“One Weapons Master, two Weapons
Master,” Bren said, counting as loud as he could though his voice
was shaky and strained.

Off to the side, Bren heard one of the
other boys laugh lightly. The laugh was quickly followed by heavy
footsteps. “You think this is funny? You spent all morning with him
and yet none of you decided to tell him that he might need a
uniform? You all set him up for failure!” Jacob yelled. “Bren on
your feet.”

Bren got to his feet, his
breath coming in short gasps. “”Bren, these are your battle
buddies. They are the ones that you would have to go into battle
with. It doesn’t matter if you like them, but you will support
them.
If one of you fail, you all
fail
!” Jacob said, turning and yelling the
last bit loudly. “All of you will run around the compound and I
better not see one lagging behind, or so help me I will beat you
all so badly that your grandchildren will come out with
bruises!”

Bren started to run with
the group, but Jacob grabbed him. “No, you’re already dead, so you
can lie there on the ground while they run,” the Weapons Master
said, forcing Bren to the ground. “
No one
man wins a war alone. It takes every soldier working together,
otherwise everyone suffers
.”

After their third lap, a large group of
older trainees started to come out from behind the building.
“Cassius, take trainee Farlane here and make sure that he is
properly outfitted!” Jacob yelled as the other group began to
gather in the practice area.

“Come with me Bren,” Cass said, giving
him a knowing look.

Cass led Bren inside the massive
building and into what appeared to be a large room with numerous
shelves, each housing different sets of clothes. “I see that Jacob
has already got punishing you out of the way. Don’t take it
personal, he had to show everyone that you were not going to be
treated special,” Cass said, throwing Bren a pair of dark leather
boots. “If these don’t fit, let me know….your boots will be your
most valuable piece of clothing…If they don’t fit right, I promise
you will regret it.”

After nearly half an hour, Bren had
four full sets of clothing and two pair of boots. The uniform was a
dark burgundy, made of thin leather, they were the exact same thing
that all of the other younger trainees wore. “When do I get those?”
Bren asked, pointing to the numerous small leather designs on
Cass’s uniform.

“These are earned. You will learn that
almost everything here is earned. These show what my skills are,”
Cass said, pointing at the designs on his chest. “The ones on my
shoulder are my rank within the Katanaga. Less than twenty percent
of those who train here ever earn a rank…it is considered the
highest honor. Considering your skill, I expect you to easily
surpass the rest in your group. That is, unless yesterday was just
a fluke,” Cass added, jokingly hitting Bren on the
shoulder.

“They don’t really seem to like me that
much,” Bren said as he put on his new uniform.

“I didn’t expect they would. They have
each worked hard to earn their spot in the training program. Only
those who the Weapons Master believes are good enough, or can
become good enough to join the Katanaga are allowed to train here.
Now, they see a young man, obviously a mage coming to the practice
grounds late, and more than two weeks after training has formally
started. You will have to prove to them that you belong and even
then, they will resent you for your skill. It’s sad, but that is
the way most people view others.”

“That’s great,” Bren said under his
breath. “First I have to deal with Phena and now this.”

“Well as the Weapons Master says, all
of life is a battle and only fools don’t recognize it,” Cass said,
patting Bren on the back comfortingly. “Now, we better get back to
the training field, otherwise we might find ourselves having to
crawl around the entire compound until nightfall.”

Bren and Cass returned to the field,
where more than a hundred students of all ages had gathered. “Nice
of you two to join us,” Jacob said, with a scathing glare. “Cass, I
want you to supervise the new soldiers today.”

“Looks like you finally caught a
break.” Cass said in a near whisper.

First, everyone was made to work the
pells with Cass walking up and down the line pointing out mistakes
in form. Bren found himself swinging at the pells for more than an
hour before Cass called for a break, and broke them into groups of
four.

“We will now start sparing. Today, we
will see which of you have the best skill with your choice weapon.
I want each of you to go to the storeroom and pick what you feel
most comfortable with, then return here.”

Bren, along with the others rushed
toward the storage building, where they had spent the entire
morning cleaning. Bren quickly chose a sword with a thin crossbar
and only a five foot blade that was slightly curved. It was
slightly different than his fathers, but it was as close as he
could find.

Bren was the sixth person to return,
and when he found out the prize for being last, he was glad that he
didn’t spend more time searching for the prefect weapon. Nothing
was worth having to stand with two buckets of water at shoulder
level as the others watched. Each time the buckets dropped the
slightest, Cass struck the young man in the arms with a thin wooden
rod.

Once back in their groups, they were
forced to pair off, with only the winner from each round advancing,
and the losing being force to lie on the ground, his limbs
outstretched to show that he had been killed.

Bren’s first opponent was a young boy,
who was slightly taller than him, who had chosen a short sword and
shield. After the first few strikes, Bren felt sorry for the boy.
The sword he had chosen was right, but his shield was too large and
any attack was clumsily made. Not wanting to draw out the fight,
and the boy’s humiliation, Bren moved in quickly, pivoting to the
side as the boy moved the shield to the left to strike. As soon as
the shield began to move, Bren grabbed hold of it and twisted with
his hips, moving his foot back and took a knee to the ground. Bren
heard a loud pop as the boys arm was dislocated and he fell to the
ground, whimpering. Bren had been trained not to show any remorse
once a battle had been started, so he calmly walked up to his
opponent and placed the tip of his sword at the boy
throat.

As soon as Cass called the battle over,
Bren offered his hand to the boy and helped him to his feet.
“Logan, go to see about your wound, Farlane come here,” Cass
yelled, as soon as the two left the small circle.

Bren walked slowly over to Cass, unsure
if he was in trouble or not for his actions during the battle.
“That was well done, but try not to injure anyone too badly. The
mage’s can fix most wounds, but the worse the wound, the longer
they will be out of training.”

Bren nodded his head and returned to
the line, to await his next fight. It was odd to be in a real
sparing match, where no punches were pulled. When he had trained
with the guard, it was rare anyone got injured, but most of them
had been trained for years and only advanced to the position of
royal guard when they had proven to have a great deal of skill.
Bren tried to remind himself that, though he and the others might
be the same age, he shouldn’t be overly aggressive toward them
during practice.

After eight more fights, it was down to
Bren and the sandy haired boy that had given him such a hard time
earlier that morning. The other boy had chosen a long spear to use
as a weapon, and from what Bren had seen from the other fights, he
was well versed in its use. His sword was short, so he would be
forced to get close and inside the striking range of the spear. His
heart fluttering, Bren reset his grip on his swords hilt as he
waited for the other boy to make the first move.