Martin
Chapter 14:
previously: (chapter 12) we learned more about Caelum, the ranger who was visiting the village during the attack
then: (chapter 13) the small hunting party of village crossed paths with the ranger, who warned them about continuing their pursuit of the creature
and now: we learn how Martin attained his status as an acolyte with The Arm
Martin stood in the center of the salle.
His body, from shoulders to calves, ached.
His breathes came slow and measured.
His feet were bare and firmly planted in the sand-covered floor—a feature that set this room apart from others within the monastery’s stone walls.
And his eyes followed Obalte Daloon as the combat instructor paced the perimeter of the room.
“Today, you are the last, Puer Martin,” the oblate said.
Also in the room were five other initiates. They formed a circle around Martin, positioned at a vertices in a pentagram.
“Each of your peers has been sent to the sand,” the oblate continued. “Will you fare any better?”
Martin’s fellow initiates looked worn and battered from their turns within the circle.
Jaen favored one leg.
Aster was splattered with blood from head to toe.
Lachlin could only see out one eye.
Velkke’s tunic was torn, exposing a large, purpling welt across his abdomen.
Stalt stood nearly as motionless and calm as Martin, though his right shoulder slumped slightly.
As the oblate circled the room, Daloon nodded, one after another, to the initiates surrounding Martin. A signal for them to reach down between their feet and pick up a studded metal ball that looked like it belonged at the end of a flail.
I hate being last, Martin thought.
He had suffered his injuries as well, but not having taken a turn in the circle, they were superficial. He knew better than to consider that an advantage. Rage and frustration did burn behind his eyes, fueling him past his fatigue, like with his fellow initiates.
Martin had sent Jaen to the sand. Delivered the blow that swelled Lachlin’s one eye shut. Been the cause for several of the bruises the others wore. He was now a target for their building anger.
I can’t defend myself against them all, Martin knew from past experience.
After walking by each of the five initiates, Daloon stopped and nodded to Martin. The signal for him to pick up a small buckler that lay at his feet. As he slid his fingers through its strap, he also grabbed a handful of sand. Then Martin leaned back in a defensive pose.
Instinctively, his awareness reached out for any threads of energy within the salle. But from the sand covering the floor to the stone walls, the room was intentionally absent of any desultory energies. He could only draw from within, from his internal reserves, which could tip the balance of fatigue from exhaustion to complete physical collapse if he wasn’t careful.
As the other initiates set themselves, each held their half arms out to their sides, and he felt them also gathering energy. It took on a lumiesent form for them, almost as if completing the part of their limbs that they had given to the sacrificial fire.
Martin caught his breath in his lungs and half closed his eyes.
Fingers of energy reached out from the initiates half arms to wrap around the projectiles they held in their hands.
“You may commence,” the obate said.
The initiates loosened their grips, letting their weapons dangle from the threads of energy that they wielded with their half arms.
Instead of waiting for the attack, Martin took action, pivoting on one foot while kicking up sand with his other—a defensive ploy to obscure the vision of the attackers to one side of him.
It caused them to pause for a moment.
As he twisted, Martin left fly the handful of sand he had grasped, to obscure the vision of the attackers on the other side of him.
They held back their attacks as well.
Those actions left only Jaen facing Martin. The initiate swung his half arm forward, threads of energy whirling the metal ball through the air.
But Martin had ended his spin by tossing his buckler, like a discus, at Jaen’s good leg. An action that caused a cry of agony to burst from Jaen’s lips as it struck just below his kneecap. He fell to the sand, and the energy Jaen wielded began unraveled.
In his next action, Martin yanked those threads of energy from Jaen, and whirled the initiate’s weapon around to smack into Aster’s shoulder. She grunted as the blow sent her tumbling to the sand.
That happened a moment after she had begun to launch her studded metal ball at Martin.
Martin waved his half arm, an action to redirect the projectile and bury it into Velkke’s stomach. He doubled over and collapsed to the sand.
Velkke also lost his grasp on the energy he had gathered, and Martin’s next action was to take control of his weapon and hurl it in Lachlin’s direction.
With his impaired vision, Lachlin never saw the studden-metal ball that broke his jaw and sent him to the sand.
Just then, in that moment, Martin. nearly ran out of actions. His left side screamed in pain as Stalt’s weapon glanced off his shoulder blade. Martin stumbled forward a couple steps before finding his balance.
He turned to see Stalt, drawing back his half arm, fingers of energy wrapped around the metal ball, pulling it back to him so he could whirl it around for another attack.
Martin’s action was to move to Stalt’s right and dart inside the arc of the swinging metal ball.
Stalt couldn’t raise his injured right arm in time, and Martin took his next-to-last action, punching Stalt in the nose. His head rocked back, and Martin kicked out a foot to trip him. Stalt landed in the sand with a soft thump.
“He-he cheated!” Jaen accused. “He—
“He disarmed you,” the oblate’s stern voice cut in. “And is that not a defensive tactic I have taught you? Taught you all.”
There was a brief moment of silence as the initiates accepted that truth.
“Aye, Oblate Doolan,” came five quiet replies.
“Now, as he is only one of you not sent to the sand during today’s session,” the oblate said. “Your dinner rations are his. Accusing him of cheating might not be the best way to test his generosity.”
Then the oblate turned to Martin, and with a slight nodded, he added, “Well done, Acolyte Martin.”
Muted gasps came from the initiates and their eyes widened in recognition of the sudden change in Martin’s title.
Martin nodded in response, an action of protocol, but also one to hide the smile that spread across his features.
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Nice scene! Loving the magic system. Good work!