Rohvim #1: Metal and Flesh (28 page)

“Well, a little. I talked with my priest before the attack, and he said I should consider it, that I’d make a good priest, but he thought I was too … worldly was his word at that time. Which is more or less true. So are you religious?”

“Not really. I mean, I think I believe in the Creator, but I just don’t quite believe that he would go through all the trouble of creating every living thing, starting at the smallest to the largest, give them all bones and brains, and then, bam: let’s make humans completely different, with metal in our bones and in our heads, and full of millions of lines of instructions and filled with lightning, and able to get in each other’s heads and imagine completely realistic worlds in every way…”

“Who knows? Maybe animals can do that. Do you know that they can’t?”

“No, but they don’t have metal in their heads either. Highly unlikely.”

 “So if no Creator, how did we get here?”

“No idea!” he snorted. “Like I said, there
might
be a creator, I don’t know. I just know it doesn’t make sense. I mean, we’re really just mechanical animals that can think and talk. We’re just like that mechanical doll that the master healer carries around with him, only instead of just being able to wave our arms and shake our heads, we can feel and think and talk and … jump.”

“Huh. Well I just know that when I’m sitting at prayers in the communal hall, and during the singing, I feel something. Like I belong. Like there’s something more that’s there that I can’t see.”

They sat silent for awhile, thinking, looking up at the stars. Aeden looked to the north, seeing the great bear. The guiding star. The plow. Rupert interrupted the silence. “So do you want to practice?”

“Practice? What?”

“Practice your dueling. How will you ever be as good as me unless you practice?”

“Now?”

“Yes. We don’t seem to be sleeping.”

Aeden sat up and stared at the small young man. “I can’t imagine why not. Ok, fine. But don’t we need a disinterested third party?”

“No. That’s just if we want to make sure it’s fair. With training, we don’t really care about making it fair—we make it so I squish you as many times as possible until you learn how to duel.”

“Was that a challenge? Ok. Should I put my hand on your head?” Rupert nodded, and Aeden scooted over to him, placing his hand on the greasy disheveled hair. He entered.

He looked around himself and saw a flat, grey floor, stretching as far as he could see in every direction. The sky, if you could call it that, was a slightly brighter grey than the floor.

Nice head.

Thanks. Let’s start. Turn into something deadly and come at me.

Aeden thought a bit, and instantly transformed into large cougar. With wings. He rose up in the air, flying faster and faster, testing his speed to the limit, and when he felt he was moving at a blindingly fast rate, he swooped towards Rupert, jaws gaping wide. Suddenly, Rupert disappeared. He flailed his head around, searching for the boy. He reappeared behind him, seemingly out of thin air. He changed course and swooped, and again Rupert disappeared, reappearing behind him.

How do you do that?

I just thought it. Try it. Look somewhere and decide to be there.

Aeden opened his jaws and looked at a spot just behind Rupert, deciding that’s where he’d rather be. Instantly, his perspective changed, and Rupert was right in front of him. He wrapped his terrible jaws around Rupert’s head and snapped them shut. Or rather, tried fruitlessly to snap them shut. The result was twenty shattered teeth and a cry of anger from Aeden.

But I got you! I was going to crush your head!

Rupert casually brushed off a few teeth from his shoulder.
Yes but I decided that my head was stronger than any force you could bite with.

Well then how do you attack against that?

Just decide that your bite can go through anything.

Aeden considered this, regrowing his teeth while he thought.
But… If I decide my bite goes through anything, and you decide that nothing can crush your head, how can anyone win?

Well you can’t just decide once that your head is impervious. You need to continually decide that. You must be constantly mindful of your body. If you want to be able to chomp down and bite through anything, you can’t just decide once at the beginning that all your bites are powerful, you decide that THAT bite is powerful, And then you decide that the next bite is powerful, while I consciously decide that my head is STILL impervious to your bites.

So, again, what happens when we both do that? I decide to super-chomp your head off, and you decide it’s not going to happen?

Well, if you’re in my head, I would win. If I’m in your head, you could win. Maybe—I’m pretty good at this. When we’re in a third party, whoever wants it more will win. You’ve got to feel it. With passion. Want it more than anything.
 

Aeden thought about this for a moment, and said,
Ok, let’s keep going. But since I’m in your head, you’ve got to promise not to do your steel head thing.

I will promise no such thing.

Well then how am I ever going to win?

We’re not doing this so you can win. We’re doing this so you can learn, right?

Fine. Let’s go.
And with that, Aeden, still a flying cougar, zipped up into the grey sky. Rupert transformed as well, this time to his hawk. Before Aeden could do anything, Rupert sped right towards him like lightning, his wings glinting like icy steel. Just in time, Aeden thought himself elsewhere, far away, and he instantly vanished and reappeared several hundred yards from where he was. He decided that his cougar form was flying far too slowly, and so changed to an eagle, and flew at blinding speed toward Rupert the Hawk. Rupert wheeled around and sped towards him as well. The distance between them disappeared almost instantly, and Aeden, nearly too late, thought himself below Rupert, and straightaway came tearing up through his hawk’s body, though missing the head.

The falling hawk head called out,
That’s it! Perfect!
and regrew its body. Aeden tried again, thinking himself this time just above Rupert, heading down, and instantly reappeared just above the newly healed hawk, only to see him disappear just as he was about to slice him anew, now through the head. But no, he did not disappear. As Aeden passed the place where Rupert had been, he caught the barest glimpse of a fly, who careened out of control as it was caught in the wake of the blazing eagle. Coming around for another pass, he looked everywhere but could not see the tiny fly. He darted this way and that through the sky, as fast as thunder, to no avail. He felt something on the top of his head, and before he even could try looking, he was out. He opened his eyes and looked at the scrawny little young man next to him, hand still on his greasy hair. Rupert opened his eyes. “See? Told you smaller is better. There’s no way to see a fly when you’re going as fast as you were, especially one that can disappear and reappear on your head.”

“How did you end up getting me?”

“I grew sharp teeth and burrowed into your head. Made a big mess in there.”

Aeden crawled back to his bedding. He murmured over to the other boy, “Thanks, Rupert. That was fun.”

“No problem. Dream well.”

“You too.” Aeden replied, and within minutes dozed off.

Chapter Seventeen

“In the ancient language of our fathers will He address us. He will touch our heads and heal our hearts, speaking to our blood, to the water within our blood.” –Wisdom of Rutha, 9:46

Priam wiggled a bit, exploring the extent of his bondage. He asked, “So, is it really necessary to keep me tied up?”

“For now, yes, but you will be released soon. You will be free to return to your friends, if that is your wish. But first, I have more to discuss with you.”

Priam shrugged, a little more confident now in his short term survival. “All right. Go ahead. Wait. You haven’t even told me your name.”

The voice answered, “My name is not important. If you must know, it is Yoruth. I have a proposition for you. But first, I see that you are injured. I am a fine healer. Would you give me your permission to enter your mind and offer you comfort?” Puzzled at the offer of healing while still tied up, Priam nevertheless consented, and he felt a hand placed on his head. He closed his eyes.

Before him in his mind appeared a tall, gaunt, middle aged man. He had a look of kindness about him, and smiled as he appeared. He walked forward, rather gracefully, holding out his hands. “Thank you for receiving me here, Priam.” And he grasped the younger man’s hand in his and shook it warmly.

Priam hesitantly responded, “Um … glad to have you here?” He pulled his hand out of the handshake and walked over to his mind’s wall. “So you say you can heal me? What would you say is wrong with me?”

Yoruth followed him, and examined the lights and dials on the wall. After a minute he responded, “It looks like you’ve been hit extremely hard on the head. Look here …” he pointed to the section of the wall governing the mind. Before them lay a bank of hundreds of lights and indicators and switches and knobs, and several of the lights were flashing yellow, with one blaring red.

Priam pointed to the red one, “What does that mean?!” he shouted.

“That tells me you have just a few hours of life left.”

Priam’s eyes widened.

“I speak in jest of course. No, that just means that there is a little bleeding inside your skull. Those other lights indicate that the blood has swelled certain portions of your head and are compressing the rohva brain components there. No need to worry, really, the parts in our brains are quite capable of being compressed and knocked around a bit. If it were to happen too much however, that is another matter. Watch. I will show you how to handle a situation like this. The key is to signal to the area of the body that controls blood composition to send enough healing blood to the affected area. I have discovered that blood has many different components to it, one part of which is a substance that patches up tears and holes in flesh. Other components prevent our bones from rusting, some deliver air throughout our body, and some accomplish things that I do not understand. Adjust this one here—the blood composition dial, while simultaneously pressing this button near the affected region … that’s right, a little longer … there! See?”

As Priam watched, the red turned to yellow, then green, and when it did, the other yellow lights stopped flashing, and one by one turned to green as well. “Wow. Thank you, I guess.”

Yoruth bowed, “You are welcome, Priam, but I must ask your pardon, for it is because of me that you sustained this injury in the first place. You see, I am an associate of Lord Shiavo.”

Priam’s eyes widened once more, and he took a step back from the tall man. Yoruth continued, “It is true. He is a less than savory character, but for now he has his uses. I deplore the results of his actions—the senseless killing, the pain and suffering. But several things are now being accomplished. Tell me, Priam, have you ever felt a little … put out, by the fact that you are just as talented and capable as your noble friend, and yet all the acclaim, all the attention, all the glory always seems to follow him?”

Priam opened his mouth in protest, but closed it. He tried again, “But in many ways, Aeden
is
better than me. His swordsmanship skills are better, though only by a little, and now it seems I have learned rohva sword fighting far quicker than he has ….”

Yoruth nodded, “Of course you did. You are talented. You work hard. And where has the reward been your whole life, hmm? You struggle, you work, you sweat, you bleed, and the fruits of your labors always seem to go to the nobility. Tell me that is not so!”

Priam hesitated again, “Well … ok, sure. We pay a portion of our profits to the lord of the city, and he distributes those among some of the higher families. But they do great good with that money!”

Yoruth looked skeptical. “Like what?”

“Well, like, oh, they put on the tournament every year. Let’s see, what else do they… oh yeah, they support the priests and the communal house. And they … well, I’m sure there’s more.”

Yoruth shook his head. “No, Priam, I’m afraid there is not more. For all the money that is confiscated, how much of it do you think makes it to the tournament and the priests? Why, I would wager that they could pay for the tournament with what your family alone pays the lord.”

“Well what about the priests? It probably costs a lot to support them!”

Yoruth nodded, “Yes, of course. It does require much to support them, and yes, they are the guardians of the Chronicles and they hold the feasts and the festivals. But, have you ever thought about what else they do? What do they do? Do they spend their time healing, like the society? No! Do they go out among the people, helping the poor and the widows? No! They sit and interpret the Chronicles and hold their feasts. And what’s more, do you know any priests that come from a common family?”