The Chosen (14 page)

The sun was already cresting the castle walls, and Daniella could be seen approaching the sparring field, her white robes gleaming in the early morning sunlight. The four men intercepted her at the edge of the field, each greeting her politely as all honorable men should. Sirus quickly summed up the day’s plan, explaining not only to Garret and Zorbin but also to Daniella that the day would consist of three matches, and the best two out of three would be considered the victor. Daniella assured Sirus that if after any of the matches she felt too weak to heal the men, she would send for another healer to assist her and so it was decided that there was no time like the present to begin.

Both Garret and Zorbin walked to the middle of the field, eyeing each other eagerly. They realized this was not solely a competition between them, but also a competition between their leader Sirus, and the knight Philip, to see whose pupil would be victorious. They also knew that this would be a lesson to them both, not only in weapons training, but also to one of them in humility. Reaching the center of the field both combatants raised their weapons and looked back to their instructors for the affirmation to begin but it appeared the two men were deep in conversation and were not paying them any attention as of yet. They both continued to watch as Xanth padded up to Daniella, who now sat in the grass behind Sirus and Philip, and they continued watching as the giant beast lay down and rested his head in her lap silently begging her attention. Sirus at last turned to them and gave the command to begin, and from there on out never took his eyes off the men, barely sparing the time to blink.

Seeing that the moment had come, the two opponents began to size each other up. Zorbin was the shorter, but his long-handled battle hammer made up for his natural disadvantage of reach, and Garret made for a very large target. Garret realized that Zorbin, being significantly shorter than he, was a much smaller target, but knew also that the heavy war hammer was unwieldy at best and should leave him ample chances to strike. Thus after many minutes circling each other, both felt they had a slight advantage.

Hoping to get an early blow in, Garret swung his large sword parallel to the ground as if to cleave the dwarf in two. Using this as only a feigned attack, he did not put his body into the swing, so as Zorbin brought his hammer down to deflect, Garret twisted the blade up gracefully to miss the hammer entirely, aiming a blow for the chin. Zorbin hadn’t seen the attack for what it was and realized a fraction of an instant too late his error. Leaning back on his heels he tried to avoid Garret's blade, but the downward stroke of his own hammer inhibited his ability to dodge the blow, and the point of the blade cleanly split the tip of his nose in two, spraying the dwarf's face with blood.

Zorbin took note of his failure, and focused himself further for the battle, his facial wound already forgotten. Yesterday the dwarf's opponent had swept in and out past his lumbering hammer to deal damage, and Zorbin had learned much from that fight. He adjusted his grip on the long handle of the hammer, shortening his swing, but also giving him greater control and better reaction time. This slight change of tactic also would allow him to use the great spike on the handle end of the hammer to his advantage. Garret recognized Zorbin’s change of tactic, but though he had hoped to dance in behind the heavy hammer and deal damage in between the dwarf's swings, he now realized that he, not the dwarf, had a greater reach with his weapon. Garret feigned another attack, swinging his large sword down from overhead. Zorbin moved to intercept, but just before their weapons met, the dwarf lunged in, ramming the great spike into Garret's gut, causing Garret to release the sword with one of his hands, and the swing to go wild. Garret never saw it coming, and being already possibly mortally wounded, his time was limited. Using his entire body, Garret threw his weight into the dwarf, the spike still lancing through his organs, knocking the dwarf off balance and causing him to stumble back several steps. Garret quickly assessed his wound and realizing it was very deep, but not overly large, reckoned he still could fight on for some time.

Changing his approach, Garret again raised his great blade above his head as if to attempt the same stroke. As before he brought the large blade down as if to cleave his opponent’s head in two. Again Zorbin raised his hammer to intercept the blow, and thought to lunge in again, just as Garret pulled his swing off center and he himself lunged. Slowing the stroke mid-swing, Garret thrust, driving his blade with the weight of his entire body straight through the dwarf’s shoulder. Glancing off the bone, his blade made no more than a large flesh wound and Zorbin staggered back from the attack, disengaging the blade from his flesh. Garret was crafty and Zorbin knew now not to underestimate him. Being more determined than ever he charged back into the fight, raising his hammer to deflect a blow already thrown by his opponent.

*****

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...