Authors: Laszlo,Jeremy
Sirus kept his distance, intent on the battle. He watched as his newest knights were forced to adapt again and again to each other’s fighting styles. He knew he had chosen them well. Perhaps it was luck, but Sirus believed a man made his own luck, and so he knew that it was more than mere chance that had allowed him to choose a man within minutes of meeting him to train as a knight. Some men had what it took, others simply didn't. Both of his charges had it. They both had more than able bodies, both were apt students, and both could think on their feet. But most of all, both were open to greater beliefs than themselves, allowing them to join a greater cause than themselves, allowing them to welcome a god into their lives who could fill them not only with power, but also the ability to do more and be more than a normal mortal man. So Sirus watched his charges, caring not who won or lost, only caring what they learned, but most of all hoping his plan would work.
Philip on the other hand was much closer to observe the action. Moving at speeds only he himself could comprehend, he danced around the two knights-to-be, and witnessed the battle from every available angle. He sped round and round them, watching as each of them found openings in the other’s defenses, trading blow for blow, each waiting for the other to make a mistake. Philip was impressed at how fast the two had learned. With mere days of training, Philip mused, he could put either of these boys up against any other common soldier with years of training and know that Garret or Zorbin would be victorious. So it was with a little amazement that Philip careened around the battlefield watching the fight as no other person could hope to see it.
Both Garret and Zorbin had landed many blows, none of which were immediately fatal. However, the sums of their wounds were beginning to take a toll on the each of them. Garret's stomach knotted uncontrollably as he was constantly forced to use his abdominal muscles, which inconveniently had a hole ripped straight through them, but even so he stayed in the fight, bringing his blade again and again to swing at the dwarf who refused to relent even for a moment. Zorbin’s shoulder, although merely a flesh wound, slowed him down immensely. Since it was his dominant arm that was the one damaged, Zorbin now had to calculate his swings carefully so as not to do himself more harm with the great weight of the hammer, and he practiced caution not only when attacking but when defending as well. One mistake could leave his shoulder useless, and thereby make his giant hammer unable to be wielded efficiently.
The human and the dwarf battled on for over a half an hour, both of them sweating profusely and bleeding from many minor wounds. They slowed, not only due to the great exertion, but also to the loss of blood. Both knew that their time was limited, and neither wanted to wait to see who lost consciousness first. Garret again was on the attack, swinging repeatedly, trying to land another blow on the dwarf, but Zorbin brought his hammer up to deflect every single attempt. Zorbin was on the defensive, and Garret knew he would have to take a risk to land a strike that might lead to his victory.
Dancing back a step, Garret raised his blade above his head but also over one shoulder to bring the blade down in a great sweeping arc diagonally, hoping that if his opponent tried to intercept the attack, his blade might still glance off and land a decent blow. Heaving the blade down with all his might, Garret stepped back into range of the dwarf who again did something unexpected. Zorbin knew the next hit might well determine the battle, and tiring as he was, decided to try something unorthodox. Holding his hammer mid-shaft he swung the head to one side and behind his back with both hands. Just as Garret began his sweep down, Zorbin swung the hammer from behind his back with all his might, slightly loosening his grasp on the handle. The great weight of the hammer's head along with the centrifugal force of the swing caused the hammer to slide further out from Zorbin’s hands, fully extending the reach of the weapon. Once in full swing, with the loss of blood and the wounds he had sustained, there was no way for Zorbin to stop the war hammer and so he lent all his strength to the swing. As Garret stepped in, bringing his blade to fall upon the dwarf, the hammer hit the human square in the ribs, shattering all of them on one side and driving their shards into every major organ of the man. Dealing the blow came with a great cost, and even as Garret was defeated, the power of his swing brought his sword to meet its intended target driving it through the dwarf's uninjured shoulder, completely removing the arm from the socket.
Garret had seen the blow coming too late. His momentum carrying him forward, the diagonal swing of his blade pulling him into the path of the war hammer, there was simply nothing Garret could do. Committed to his attack the best Garret could hope for in that last instant of battle was a draw. The last thing Garret saw when he blacked out, besides the stars exploding before his eyes, was his opponent kneeling over him, one arm hanging uselessly at his side.
Daniella and Sirus raced across the sparring field to where Garret had fallen. Zorbin and Philip knelt over their fallen comrade but quickly made way for the healer who was already praying as she neared. Falling to her knees beside Garret she placed her hands upon the fatal wound at his side and immediately she burst into radiant light. She delved into his body with her mind, the power of her goddess at her command, and retrieving all the shards and fragments of the man's ribs she quickly mended them back together loosely to keep them out of her way. She then worked to restore his left lung that had taken the worst damage, and within moments had it repaired enough so that it not only stopped bleeding, but also no longer leaked air to fill his chest cavity. His heart still beat, but there was a tear in one of the main vessels that left the heart and with each struggling beat he bled more internally. Mending the tear completely she continued to the other lung which had sustained little damage. She repaired the small punctures caused by bone fragments and then helped his body to reabsorb the blood that pooled within him, once again giving his lungs room to breathe. Garret's heart began to beat normally, if a little slowly, and his breathing became less shallow.
Now that Garret would live, Daniella turned to her side where Zorbin knelt. Placing one hand below his shoulder wound, she lifted the useless arm back into its proper position, and placing her other hand above it she began mending the ragged edges of bone, tendon, blood vessel and muscle back together. Again many moments passed and each witnessed as the dwarf's useless arm gained color once again, then sensation, and finally Zorbin regained full use of the limb. Assured that neither of the men would now die of their wounds, Daniella sat back on her knees, taking a moment to rest and regain her composure. Just a moment before she had felt faint. Sweat still glistened on her forehead and her hands trembled slightly. She needed to pace herself. Sirus's wound the previous day had been much worse, but even with such an injury, Gorandor’s power could sustain Sirus for a long period even with such a mortal wound, so Daniella had been able to take her time in his mending. Garret was as yet unblessed, forcing her to hurry, expending herself quickly. She sat motionless for some time, her head tilted back, eyes closed, waiting for her body to calm, yet continually praying to her goddess.
Time passed. Everyone remained silently watching and listening for signs of life from Garret. He lay motionless on the ground, his chest barely rising and falling, ever too slowly. Daniella finally recuperated and opened her eyes. She peered at Garret, still chanting softly, as if appraising his remaining wounds. Returning to her duty she laid her hands upon his abdomen, and delved inside him to assess the damage. Here the spike of the battle hammer had pierced him deeply and the very toxins of his own waste spilled slowly into his belly, poisoning what little precious blood there was keeping him alive. Daniella prioritized quickly and closed the gaping wounds to the man’s intestines. Next she burned away the infection already beginning to grow within his belly, and then she helped his own body cleanse his blood and absorb the waste that had pooled in his gut. She could not create more blood for his body to pump precious air and nutrients to his entire body, but she could force his marrow to create the blood faster, and so she poured her energy into the task.
Slowly Garret's blood was replenished and color began to return to his face and extremities. Seeing she was nearly done, Daniella mended the abdominal wall and finally his flesh healed back together, leaving no trace of the wound. All major repairs done, she quickly and methodically went about healing all of his minor cuts, bruises, strained ligaments and tendons. Completing the task, she then turned back to Zorbin, leaving the human to regain consciousness on his own.
Garret found himself in his childhood, running though Vineleaf, Seth at his side, both of them returning home from an afternoon playing in the fields. Today they had played soldiers, and Garret had bested Seth time and again with his wooden sword. Garret just knew he was the bestest sword fighter of all the sword fighters in all the world, and Seth agreed with him. The image faded and before Garret had completely registered the memory he sat before the hearth in the inn that was his home. He found himself sitting upon his mother's knee and smiled up at her and she smiled back. Seth sat on their mother's other knee listening intently to someone talking, telling a tale of a battle. The only thing Garret heard before the image was lost to him was a single name. Gorandor. Next Garret was sweeping the floor behind the bar of the inn. It was past their bedtime, but both he and Seth worked slowly at their chores so that they could overhear the tale of a great battle that had been won to the south. An old hunter spoke to their parents and neighbors telling them of the heroic deeds of the Knights of Valdadore, whose actions had saved countless lives...
Darkness overtook Garret and another image flashed in his memory, a recent memory of an old man whose grace defied his age, and whose melodious voice held all enthralled, including himself and his brother Seth, at an inn only weeks ago as he sang a song about past and upcoming battles. The only word Garret actually recalled from the tale at this moment was Gorandor. One last image flashed within his mind; it was The Choosing ceremony, where all the themes of all the memories continued. As in all the other reminiscences that flashed before Garret's eyes he was again with his brother, and he himself was now being chosen to serve the Knights of Valdadore, who all worshipped Gorandor. The image hung longer than the others in his mind and then dissipated as Garret, accepting his new role in life, left Seth to stand behind as he walked to meet his new brothers. Garret seemed to understand the message his memories where trying to relay. Perhaps it was his subconscious mind putting together that which his conscious mind refused to realize, but none the less Garret understood. Though both of them had wished to stay together, to look out for one another, the twins had grown up, each choosing their own path, each going their own way as all adults must. Garret needed to put his childish worries behind him, knowing full well that Seth was able to take care of himself and that gave Garret the ability to focus solely on his own path. The realization broke Garret away from his childhood cleanly, and with it now behind him, everything else seemed to fall into place.
Daniella lay in the grass resting for more than an hour as the knights nearby talked and jested, all waiting for Garret to come to. From time to time his eyes would flutter behind his lids, and both his breathing and heartbeat had gained strength quickly. All of his wounds healed, Daniella assured them it would not be long before his mind accepted that his body was mended and he would reawaken feeling quite refreshed if perhaps a little groggy. Just as promised, little more than an hour had passed from the time Garret had fallen in mock battle that his eyes opened slowly and he sat up quickly, as was his strange fashion.
Everyone gathered around him, asking about his well-being and if he felt any pain, if he was strong enough to stand, and so on. Garret surprised them all as he quickly got to his feet as if nothing had ever happened. Garret in turn asked Zorbin how he was feeling. Both reassured that their opponent was once again in fighting condition, asked Sirus if they might move on to round two. Sirus gave his approval after asking Daniella if she was also prepared and she assured them that she was.
Garret and Zorbin walked a short distance away and began circling one another once again. As before, Sirus watched in silent hopefulness as Philip whirred around the combatants.
Garret knew he had lost the first round, but was neither ashamed nor angry. Instead he committed each of the dwarf's tactics to memory and prepared himself for another battle. Garret decided to play this fight quite differently from the last. He learned quickly from his mistakes, and swore to himself to not repeat a single one of them. After all, Zorbin had already won one match, so winning this match would give him the two of three he needed to be the overall victor. Garret was not yet ready to give the dwarf that victory.
Zorbin and Garret circled each other over and over again, but this time it was Zorbin who made the first move. Swinging his battle hammer in a wide arc he hoped to end the battle quickly this time with another devastating blow to the ribs. Garret easily sidestepped the swing and lunged in to make a quick jab to Zorbin’s thigh. It was a shallow thrust, but Garret’s strike hit its mark drawing first blood for the second time. Zorbin yelped at the sudden pain, but true to form launched another attack of his own, this time bringing the giant hammer down from overhead in an effort to crush Garret's head or one of his shoulders. Instead of simply stepping aside this time, Garret pitched both forward and to the side, making no effort to strike but forcing Zorbin to change the course of his blow, arcing it now sideways to follow the form of his retreating opponent. Realizing the downward and sideways force of the hammer’s swing would likely carry the blow to either his thigh or knee, Garret once again lunged forward, directly to the dwarf’s side. Zorbin readjusted his footing, rising to his toes to allow the momentum of the giant hammer to spin him in an effort to follow Garret’s moves. Just as Garret had hoped, the dwarf fell for his ruse. With him now on his toes, Garret lunged and threw his shoulder into the dwarf, dislodging the smaller man from his feet and sending him careening away, trying to regain his balance. Garret pounced in for the attack, this time slashing a great gash across Zorbin’s ribs, flaying flesh from bone. Zorbin seemed not yet to notice the wound and spun to retaliate but before he could bring the cumbersome hammer to deal a blow, Garret had again retreated back a pace and off again to the side.
Zorbin thought he had now discovered the man’s tactic and quickly created a plan to thwart it, as he had done in the previous battle. But Garret hadn’t applied himself to a single idea for this battle, instead deciding to remain fluid, adapting constantly as the fight progressed. As Zorbin came at him with another great blow of the hammer, expecting him to once again sidestep and strike, Garret propelled himself forward into a somersault. Rolling up and under the dwarf’s swing, Garret drove the pommel of his great sword into the dwarf's throat, crushing his vocal cords. Before Zorbin could react Garret again dove out of range, regained his feet and turned back as if to charge in again. Zorbin’s throat had begun to swell and his airway to constrict rapidly. He was unsure if the swelling would continue to completely block his windpipe. He began to panic. As if in a berserker fury, the dwarf rushed Garret, raining blows with the war hammer this way and that. Garret was hard pressed to deflect them all and instead chose to retreat. He dodged this way then that, falling back a few paces then advancing forward a few, then back to the side, always keeping the dwarf moving in different directions, trying to keep him off balance. Zorbin had yet to land a serious blow, but in his fury he had received a few more minor injuries where Garret had found a small opening and decided to jab him with the point of his blade. But worse were the consequences of his own actions. Zorbin’s heart was now hammering with the exertion of wielding the giant hammer in such a furious fashion, and as such his vocal cords swelled more rapidly. Within moments Zorbin could draw no air. Terror seizing him, as it had the day before, unintended Zorbin silently invoked his god, simply asking Gorandor to guide his next attack.