The Chosen (15 page)

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.

That was enough to open up the flood gates to the god’s power within him. As the dwarf swung his large hammer for the final time, Garret danced back a step, taking himself out of range, but then a concussive boom sounded. The dwarf and his weapon doubling in size placed Garret directly beneath the now enormous head of a hammer that was already falling to make  a blow that would take Garret beyond even the ability of Daniella to save. Garret again had no options. It was too late, and the weapon too large to dodge, so acting on instinct Garret closed his eyes and mumbled what would probably be his last words.

"Gorandor protect me," Garret barely whispered.

In answer a second concussive boom sounded on the sparing field, and Garret exploded, just as he had done in the inn a few weeks ago when he had been lent the power of a goddess by his friend Ashton. This time Garret's transformation had the will of his own chosen god behind it and with the explosion Garret expanded. He felt the massive hammer strike him not in the head as he had feared, but in the chest. When it hit a deafening ringing sounded and the head of the hammer shattered, raining shards of tempered metal for dozens of yards in all directions, such was the force of the blow. Garret stumbled back, expecting every second to be the last, waiting to lose consciousness. Stumbling backward Garret realized his feet were slow to follow as if he were sinking into the soft soil of the ground as he tried to regain his balance. Unable to stop his own backward momentum with his feet no longer beneath him, Garret tumbled onto the grassy field with a thud. Somehow he remained conscious, and slowly, realizing he wasn’t dead or even dying for that matter, as he lay on his back Garret looked down to assess the devastating damage to his chest, but all he saw was his tunic. The tunic was soiled with dried blood from their first battle earlier in the day, but no new blood soaked its surface now. Not believing what he was seeing, Garret reached to pull up his tunic to inspect what damage hid beneath it, but he stopped before he could even grasp the cloth. His hand gleamed like polished silver, completely encompassed in armor from the tips of his fingers all the way up his wrist to where his tunic hid his forearm. Garret hadn't remembered wearing any gauntlets today, and that's when it struck him. He wasn’t
wearing
armor, he
was
armor. As everyone rushed to Garret's immense body lying still on the ground, Garret simply held up both his hands and stared at them, realization striking him as he pulled up his tunic to see the same reflective metallic surface shining upon his abdomen and chest.

"I've been blessed!" Garret shouted in triumph. His voice sounded much deeper than he recalled. Looking to those who rushed up to him he realized that they were tiny, at least all of them except Zorbin. Finally, panic and fear fading and adrenaline slackening, Garret felt the intoxicating flow of Gorandor’s power coursing through his body and exalted in the sensation.

Philip reached Garret first. He had been just a few feet away from Garret when the transformation took him. Not accepting what he thought he saw happen, he raced up to get a better look at Garret and reassure himself he hadn’t been imagining the whole thing. Zorbin was the next one to reach Garret, his own hands still tingling from the reverberation of his war hammer’s sudden explosion, but the now giant dwarf stood slack-jawed staring at Garret. Seconds later Sirus and Daniella raced to Garret’s side where, after a second to inspect his student, Sirus clapped Philip on the back and turned to face the younger knight.

"Told you it would work," Sirus said.

Philip shook his head, unable to believe that not only had Sirus cooked up this seemingly crazy plan to draw out Garret's blessing, but that it had actually worked and what was even more impressive were the results. Garret was big in his blessed form, though Sirus would be the larger by nearly a third. Garret had expanded to three times his normal size, now an impressive eighteen feet tall. He also appeared to be made of solid metal beneath his clothes. All of the knights were fairly certain that Garret’s new skin condition would make up for his slightly smaller stature.

The elation was short lived. After the adrenaline from the previous moments had worn off, Zorbin, the enormous dwarf still in his blessed form, blacked out. In falling he nearly crushed Daniella, who dove aside at the last minute to avoid the tumbling giant. Though excitement had made the dwarf forget his own predicament, and Gorandor’s blessing had sustained him many moments after his final breath had been taken, the swelling in the dwarf's throat finally got the better of him. Starving his body and brain of much needed oxygen, Zorbin succumbed to unconsciousness and collapsed to the ground.

Fortunately for Daniella, though, the wound had won Garret the battle. The damaged vocal cords were an easy fix compared to the ones she had treated earlier. She soon had the dwarf breathing again, and also repaired all of his other, less life-threatening, mostly superficial wounds while the other knights looked on and asked Garret dozens of questions that he knew not the answers to.

Sometime during the ordeal Xanth had padded up among the men, and now he sat patiently beside the slight impression Garret had left in the ground when he fell. Cocking his large wolfish head to the side he grinned at his master who was regaining consciousness, as if to say that he expected as much to happen without him there to protect the dwarf.

Later that night as the four Knights of Valdadore sat around their evening meal discussing the day's events, a young boy burst through the entrance door, struggling with the weight of the massive portal. Without slowing and without introduction he charged straight to the table where the men dined, and slid to a halt directly in front of Sirus, who had previously had his back to the door, but had turned around at the commotion.

"Lord Sirus," the small boy began, obviously out of breath. "Your presence as well as that of your new recruit Master Garret has been requested at first light at the palace." Panting, the boy finished.

Nodding his understanding, Sirus dismissed the boy with a wave. He charged back out the way he had come, obviously to deliver another message to more people of import.

"I had hoped for us to leave in the morning to go and join the rest of our men," Sirus observed. "I wonder what it is that is of such importance?  But what is more odd is that you too have an invite to the castle Garret." Sirus ended, now lost in thought for a moment.

Garret too wondered about the implications. He could think of no reason for the king to even know his name, let alone request his presence. Garret had learned of his brother's choosing in the weeks past and knew that Seth trained to be a shield, a guardian of sorts to the king, so maybe this had something to do with the summons. Then Garret realized that even his brother's training would not be reason enough to call him to the castle, unless something had gone wrong. Maybe Seth had been injured or worse, even killed in his training? Maybe even now they prepared his twin’s body for burial? All these thoughts assailed Garret but he tried to quickly brush them away, knowing that if Seth had indeed come to some harm, Sara would have found a way to get the message to him herself.

The knights mused the implications of the messenger’s request amongst each other for a while, and all of them finding the circumstances overly odd, resigned to simply waiting until morning to discover the meaning behind the summons. Before they each departed for bed, Sirus sent Philip to race toward their army in the south and intercept any messengers he may find bringing word to Sirus and return by morning with the messages himself. With a nod and a handshake, clasped at the wrists, to each of his fellow knights, Philip departed without hesitation, disappearing into the night beyond the garrison. Philip gone, the other three men retired to their own rooms, to pray to their god and eventually get some sleep, which came quickly to all three of them.