Training the Warrior (7 page)

The first sign they were approaching the
change was a dull, aching pain starting deep within their forearms. It meant
the sharp, incredibly hard blades, which would erupt from their forearms, were
beginning to separate from their ulna bones. For years the enamel-strengthened
blades developed, protected by the encompassing bone mass. The long sheath now
poised over the eventual blade opening was also beginning to harden and fuse to
the bone, paralleling the edge. Soaking in the cool artesian spring waters that
flowed near the boundary of the practice field was the one comfort they were
allowed to seek to soothe their pain.

A sudden high fever was the second sign. It
signaled the first stage of the change had begun. The blades were ready, now
the body must change. The fever and flood of hormones would make the youths
lethargic. They’d lose consciousness for hours at a time. The combination
elevated their metabolic rate, burning fat for energy at an alarming pace and
turning their giant bodies into raging masses of muscular power. It gave them
the extra strength they’d need to pull their blades out for the first time.

 Once the fever broke, what happened next
was almost miraculous, much like the birth of a child as it struggled to take
its first breath. However, for the young warriors, the transformation was
agonizing. As the blades emerged, slicing through a thick outer layer of
protective tissue, the sheaths instantaneously completed their fusion to the
ulna bones. At the same time, marking glands alongside each wrist would
activate and lubricate the opening to ease the passage of the smooth-surfaced
blades.

The marking glands weren’t the only ones
activated. For the first time in their lives, the newly-bladed males would
experience their first erections and subsequent ejaculations. At the mercy of
the chemicals flooding their bodies, they turned into raging, rutting beasts
whose only instinct was to kill or rape. Pain and pleasure for them become one
and the same at that instant.

The young warriors were coached through the
change by older mated warriors known as handlers, who were no longer able to go
to battle due to injury or age. For several minutes after blading, the
transformed warriors were helpless, stunned and exhausted by the physical
exertion. After assisting the newly-bladed to re-sheath their blades, the handlers
would take them into an adjoining room and securely strap them down. Afterward,
the teachers would start the training. They tended to the young warriors’
needs, night and day, for the next month while they healed mentally and
physically.

* * * *

Lydia awoke to Takoora shaking her, urging
her to get up.

“Hurry! We have fifteen minutes. All the
initiates have been summoned to the blading section. The head mistress wants us
to observe.”

Her first full day as an apprentice was
starting out with a huge opportunity. It wasn’t every day they had a young warrior
going through the change. Lydia rushed through her morning routine at record
speed. Finished, she threw on her red robe, slipped on a pair of soft leather
sandals, grabbed her mask and dashed out the door of the bedroom she shared
with her friend. Takoora followed close behind. They both hoped they would be
paired together when their training was complete.

They ran to the blading section. Along the
way, the rest of the initiates joined them in their mad dash. As they
approached a wide door they slowed as a group and proceeded through the doorway
in a more dignified manner. Four teachers met them inside and led them down a
wide corridor. Lydia clutched her stomach when she heard the first painful
howls coming from a location just ahead of them. She and Takoora exchanged
nervous glances. Lydia knew only too well what was about to happen.

Two of the teachers stopped before a thick wooden
door. The other two motioned silently for the initiates to continue walking.
They were led to the next one where they entered a narrow passageway with steps
leading up to an open area. Lydia recognized her surroundings. They were in an
observation room, a balcony overlooking a blading chamber. The two teachers
gave them a signal to remain completely quiet. Lydia had been in this section
once before when Kern had brought her to the citadel. She hoped her stomach had
grown stronger and that she wouldn’t pass out. She mimicked the other initiates
and slipped on her mask before she peered over the balcony edge.

The first thing she noticed was the blading
rack. It was made of heavy metal beams joined together to form a bench-like
structure. The cushioned bottom was only a few inches off the floor. It was
made to be kneeled on. The short, thick legs of the rack were bolted to the
floor. What could have been taken for a seat back was in fact one single
horizontal beam, which was elevated just properly to support a kneeling warrior’s
upper body. A thick leather belt dangled from the beam. A long, thick rod was
suspended from the ceiling by a heavy chain. It hovered above the rack. It was
the sturdiest handlebar she’d ever seen. Slender metallic cuffs were attached
to each end.

A side door opened to the room below and
two warriors entered. Between them they half-carried, half-dragged a naked
tawny young warrior over to the rack. One helped him kneel on the cushion while
the other secured him to the beam by wrapping the leather belt around the
male’s waist. That done they immediately secured his wrists to each end of the
hanging bar. Lydia noticed they were careful to avoid placing the narrow cuffs
below his wrists. Neither warrior spoke as they went about their task. The only
sound in the room came from the young warrior. It seemed as if his every
movement caused him great pain. His moans and howls were pitiful. Lydia steeled
herself, knowing what had to happen next.

One warrior, who appeared to be the older
of the two, stood in front of the unbladed warrior, waiting in stoic silence.
Occasionally, he would press a small device against the younger man’s neck. A
thermometer, Lydia realized. He waited for the fever to break. The other warrior
took the end of the chain and pulled, steadily raising the bar along with the
young warrior’s arms. A howl of pain echoed around the room.

“Grab the bar. Don’t let go.” The older warrior
barked the order. Amazingly, the younger male did as he was instructed.

Lydia studied the suffering male. He trembled,
perhaps chilled from the high fever or just reacting to the hormones racing
through his system. The soft look of youth was completely gone. He resembled
the bladed warriors now. Hard, well-defined muscles writhed under his fevered
skin. Like all warriors, his hair was long, falling well below his shoulders.
Unlike most, his was light brown and streaked with black strands. Even though
he was unbladed, his body was identical to his warrior brothers. There was no
sign of a beard or any facial stubble and no hair on his torso, except for a
thin line of short, dark hair sprouting just below his navel. The sparse growth
trailed downward, widening into a semi-circle thatch at the base of his flaccid
penis. His testicles were as hairless as his upper body. She always loved that
particular feature about Kern.

She didn’t know enough about the tattoo
markings on the young warrior’s back shoulder to read his name even if she
could see it underneath all his hair. And she wasn’t in a position to see the
circular line tattoo with its accompanying center design on the right side of
his chest. She was always curious to see if any warriors carried the same
markings as her mate’s.

Lydia was brought out of her daydream by a
shove from Takoora. Her friend motioned to the floor below. The older warrior
wrapped thin gauze strips around one of the warrior’s forearms. Finished with
the one, he moved on to the other before coming back to stand in front of him.
The younger male was no longer trembling. His body was drenched in a heavy
sheen of sweat. After checking his temperature one more time, the older warrior
nodded solemnly.

“It’s time, Talon.” The warrior, who served
as handler, gave a hand signal to the other warrior.

The chain drew taut, stretching Talon’s
arms higher. His hands tightened around the bar as he roared from the pain. He
drew in mighty breaths between each roar as he pulled against the bar. His
muscles bunched, biceps, triceps, deltoids and traps all straining against the
rising bar. The belt around his waist kept him secured to the rack, which in
turn allowed him to brace his lower body in order to pull down harder.

Seconds turned into long minutes as he
strained to pull against the bar hard enough to wrench his blades from their
position within his bones. His howls of agony were as heartrending as they were
frightening. After no less than an hour, sweat poured off his body. The floor
beneath the rack was wet. For the first time, Lydia noticed there was a drain
directly under it. A practical design, it made clean up easier, she supposed.

At least another hour passed while Talon
struggled. Although he pulled with just as much strength as in the beginning,
his efforts hadn’t been successful. His handler checked the outer edges of
Talon’s forearms. The thin gauze wrappings were soaked with sweat and stained
with blood.

Coming to stand behind the warrior, the handler
clapped his hands on Talon’s shoulders. “If you don’t have the strength to
finish this, I’ll assist you.”

Lydia recognized the challenge immediately
as did Talon. His first response was a deafening roar of fury. An instant
later, he jerked harder against the bar, pulling and tugging with renewed
strength. No longer howling from the pain, he growled. Almost as if he were
oblivious to the pain, his entire body seemed overcome by a maniacal
determination to end his suffering. The rage possessed him.

A loud cracking noise accompanied a
chilling sound that Lydia had never heard a human or humanoid throat ever make
before. She could only describe it as a cross between a death scream and a
murderous roar. The bloody scene she couldn’t turn away from was as horrific as
it was mesmerizing.

Talon hung limply from the bar, his upper
body supported by the rack. Bone-white blades jutted out from each of his
forearms in stark contrast to the copious amounts of red blood draining
downward from his elbows. It ran in rivulets all the way down his body and
pooled into a puddle on the floor near the drain. White seminal fluid mixed
with it. Talon jerked spasmodically in the aftermath. He appeared
semi-conscious.

“Welcome, Young Talon.” The warrior
congratulated him. “Well done.”

If the young warrior responded, Lydia
didn’t hear him. The teachers ushered them out of the balcony and lead them
down the steps. Once they exited into the corridor, they were surprised to see
the head mistress waiting for them.

“A successful blading,” she said, smiling. “Right
now the warriors will help Talon retract his blades. It’s an instinctive
ability they master quite rapidly. When they’ve washed him and removed him from
the rack the warriors will take Young Talon into the first training room. If
any of you wish to observe, you may do so, but you must remain silent. And you
may have to stay in the room until the warriors return to make sure Talon is
able to release and retract his blades without difficulty.”

“How long will the first session last?” one
of the women asked.

“At least six hours. I know some of you
were scheduled to observe other teachers training warriors who are in later
stages. You’ll have many opportunities during your training to observe all
four.”

Most of the initiates left to meet up with
their assigned teachers. Lydia and Takoora remained. Theirs waited beside the
doorway leading to the room where Talon would eventually be taken.

“Our teachers are here,” Takoora explained.

The head mistress studied them. “Do you
have any questions?”

“Yes, mistress,” Lydia spoke up. “I wondered
if the handlers ever have to help a young warrior.”

“Sometimes they’ll add their weight to a warrior’s
shoulders. Or if a young warrior is tiring, the older warrior will cover their
hands with his own to help them grip the bar while he presses down on the young
warrior’s shoulders. They only do this after a young one has been laboring over
three hours. We’ve found the rage can take over if the blading takes much
longer. It’s a controversial practice, which is much debated by Tauran
scientists. However, the warrior clan doesn’t care what the scientists believe.
The clan doesn’t want to lose any warriors, especially that way.”

“Lose them?” Lydia asked.

“Yes. A young warrior who is permanently
overtaken by the rage must be put down. It’s a terrible thing when it happens.
To lose one in such a way is very sad. Thankfully, we haven’t lost a warrior in
over a century.”

Lydia bowed her head. It was barbaric.

As the head mistress walked away, Lydia
joined Takoora and the teachers beside the doorway. She heard shuffling feet
along with an occasional grunt coming from inside the room. A short time later,
one of the handlers opened the door. He moved away to join the other handler as
the teachers and initiates filed inside.

Talon was stretched out on his back,
resting on a floor-level thick cushioned platform. It was a few inches wider
than his body. His arms were stretched out just above shoulder level and his
wrists were secured to thick metal rings that were attached firmly to the stone
floor. His feet were tied in the same manner, ankles spread about a foot apart.
He was naked, as before. He gradually regained consciousness, moving his head
from side to side and growling. Another part of his anatomy was also coming
alive. His erection thrust upward, signaling his growing need.