Chapter 25: Proving Grounds
Author's note: I offer my apologies to the readers of this work. All I can offer in explanation is that college is VERY time-consuming.
However, I want you all to recognize J.G. the Game Master for somehow getting me rolling on this one by making me realize that I've got fans who like the story and want to see it completed someday.
Thanks, man.
The next day, slightly sunburned but cheerful, they met in Lloyd and Sheena's room to discuss what to do next.
"I don't know about you guys, but I want to stay here for another day," Zelos said easily.
"Why?" Sheena snapped. "So that black eye will have a chance of fading?"
"Well…yeah," the redhaired-man smirked.
Athan cleared his throat. "I want to go back to the Monastery. I've long since done what I needed, so I have to report my findings."
"What'll happen after that?" Lloyd asked.
Athan shrugged. "I'll ask for continued leave to journey with you. Depending on the outcome, I may or may not get it."
Sheena tilted her head. "Outcome?"
"I've been away for a while. To get permission to stay away further, I have to to prove my skills haven't deteriorated—by fighting my brother monks."
In the quiet moment after Athan said that, while everyone was thinking of the prospect of going on without Athan, Zelos said dejectedly, "We're not going to stay here, are we?"
Lloyd considered it. Finally, he delivered his verdict. "Nope."
"Damn!"
A few hours later, they left. The clouds crept across the open blue sky, and the sun shone more often than not. It looked to be a good day for flying.
Except, in the six or so hours it took them to reach the Monastery, the weather worsened, and grew colder. The last two hours were filled with wet, cold rain, mixed with sleet. Although it never got so bad as to endanger the flight, there was not a one of them who could easily dismiss the possibility—as the icy wind seemed to blow right through them, rather than around them.
When they landed on the ledge of the Monastery, every one of them could only think of warmth and getting dry—except for Ribs, who worried about his friends getting those things.
Once inside the Monastery, it took Athan thirty minutes of cheerfully bullying such members they met to get a group of five masters assembled. Brodelaw, Athan's teacher, was one of them. The other four were from orders dedicated to history, philosophy, science, and magic.
They listened while Athan told a much-abbreviated edition of the story of the world regeneration. Eventually, the master of history narrowed his eyes. "Brother Donu, you of course realize this story you are telling totally invalidates everything we know of theology."
"Yes, master," Athan said evenly. "I know that."
"But can you offer proof of this? A bizarre story where Mithos the Hero split the world with a sword given to him by Origin?"
"I believe I can, master." Athan said seriously.
The man smirked unpleasantly. "Would you care to?"
Athan turned. "Lloyd? Would you mind showing them the Eternal Sword?"
The master of magic, an elf, half-rose. "What?"
The master of history spluttered, but Brodelaw spoke for the first time at the proceedings. "It's irregular, but I can't think of any reason to disallow it. Go on, Mister Irving."
Wincing faintly at being called "mister" by a man probably three times his age, Lloyd stepped forward hesitantly, and drew his sword. He thought hard about the Eternal Sword's power, then pressed the two blades together. When the glow faded, he somewhat sheepishly held up the enormous purple sword.
The room was quiet. Finally, the history master said carefully, "This is the sword given to the hero Mithos by Origin, correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"And this sword has enough power that it was used to separate the world into two halves?"
"Er…yes."
The man looked at the elf master of magic, whose face was close to being pure white. "Can you feel its power, Orion?"
The elf nodded slowly, still staring at the sword. After a moment, he shuddered. "Can you put it away, Mister Irving? It's…overwhelming."
Lloyd willed the sword to separate and, a moment later, sheathed his sword.
Brodelaw coughed politely. "I think that's it, Brothers."
Athan cleared his throat. "Ah, Master…I would like permission to continue journeying with Lloyd and his friends."
Brodelaw gave his student an impassive stare. Lloyd expected him to ask why, but the massive man nodded and said, "I can't refuse my star pupil the chance to see more of the world. I'll inform the appropriate students to get ready. " He glanced over at his fellow masters. "Let us say the testing will be in four hours in the main arena?" Lloyd watched, puzzled, as the other masters nodded slightly.
On the way to the quarters of Athan's order, Lloyd caught up with Brodelaw. "Why did you ask the other masters when to hold Athan's test?"
"Hm? Oh. They were letting me know they could spread the word and make it on time."
"Why would they do that?"
Brodelaw grinned. "We're a pretty isolated society, Lloyd. We jump at the chance for any entertainment we can get. A tournament between some fairly skilled fighters will the last the whole Monastery for two months."
Lloyd considered it. "I guess so. But it feels wrong. I mean, they won't care if Athan wins or loses. It's just a show to them."
Brodelaw smirked. "You'd be surprised. There's hundreds of monks, but Athan's pretty famous around here."
"Why's that?" Lloyd pressed.
"You should see tonight."
The monks were filing into the arena. The room was fashioned into circular tiers, each one wider than the one below it. At the bottom was a fighting ring of simple dirt, about forty feet across. Light was being cast on it by some more of the magitechnology lamps they had in the Monastery. Lloyd and his friends were allowed seats at the bottom tier of seats.
Athan was already in the ring. He was in the process of warming up. When he was finished, he approached his teacher, sitting on Lloyd's left. "Master, why are we using the tent? He jerked a thumb at a screen of some opaque fabric stretched across some ten feet of the seats across from them—obscuring the people behind them.
Brodelaw adopted an expression of great sagacity. "My student, only by observing how you fare against the unknown will we be able to gauge your skills."
Athan gave his longtime friend the evil eye. "Riiiiiight."
Brodelaw dropped the act. "I don't want you worrying about who you'll fight next, and I don't want your testers to see how you fare."
"As you wish, Master." Athan said, even though he didn't sound very happy.
Brodelaw squinted up at the filling tiers. "We're close to capacity," the huge man observed. He looked at Athan. "Shall we start?"
Athan gave a curt nod. The man walked out into the arena. The buzz of conversation died away the seats, and was replaced by an expectant silence.
Brodelaw leaned over to Lloyd and muttered, "Don't cheer or shout. Clap when either fighter does well, and for the victor. Pass it along to your friend. Don't ask why—it's just the manners here."
Lloyd relayed the message and watched at it went from Sheena, to Raine, Elpida, Zelos, and Ribs.
"Excuse me a moment." Brodelaw stood, and clapped once. It sounded far too loud to be a normal clap—Lloyd wondered what trick he'd used to amplify it. The sound echoed through the arena. Athan straightened up and took a breath. From behind the screen came another monk. He was taller than Athan, if not so heavily built. His hair was reddish-brown, and he was marked with the two dragons and a floral design—Lloyd didn't recognize the blue flowers featured.
He stopped in the middle of the ring. A minute or so passed in silence, except for the inaudible murmur of the two opponents talking to each other. Brodelaw clapped again. The pair stepped back slightly, and took up their stances.
Brodelaw did his too-loud clap for the third time and sat down. "I'm officiating," he muttered.
"Who's the other guy?" Lloyd whispered.
"Nivez. He's a friend of Athan's, so I thought I'd give them time to talk a bit."
"Friend? What do we do if one of them really hurts the other one?"
"We try to avoid that. But in case of accidents or injury, we have a few of the better healers nearby." He paused. "Oh, that's clever."
While Brodelaw had been talking, the pair of fighters had been cautiously feeling each other out. Then the tempo had changed—fists thrusting and legs lashing out towards heads and chests. Athan appeared on the defensive, leaning out of the way of punches and kicks and blocking when he couldn't dodge, until he caught a kick aimed at his ear and heaved, throwing Nivez upward. The man twisted as he was carried up by the force and managed to turn the motion into a flip that landed him on his feet. Polite applause rippled through the audience—but stopped when Athan, taking advantage of the Nivez's undefended stance, punched him in the gut a mere half-second later.
The auburn-headed man gasped loudly and doubled over. For a few seconds, Athan watched him, then bent down slightly to thump his friend on the back in an effort to help him get his breath back.
Brodelaw stood up. "Victory to Athan Donu!" he boomed. Applause went through the arena. Athan apparently paid no heed, and helped his friend to a small knot of what looked like half-elves. Brodelaw grunted when he sat back down. "That's Athan all over. Won and then tends to his opponent."
"How'd he win?" Lloyd asked.
The Master smirked. "The rules say if a fighter is completely unable to defend himself, he loses. Athan incapacitated his opponent, and if you can do that in a real fight, you've as good as won." He stood up again. The applause died away. Then the huge man clapped. Athan moved back into the middle of the ring as his second opponent came out.
This man was also Athan's rank. His head was shaven, even his eyebrows. The rawboned fighter was the better part of a foot taller than Athan, but Lloyd could see Athan was the heavier of the two. There was a shorter conversation than the last one, then Brodelaw clapped for the second time. At the third time, both fighters sprang into motion.
The pair were trading punches and kicks at a rapid pace, but Lloyd was able to follow it closely enough to see Athan gaining a clear edge over the taller man. Finally, the man performed a rapid series of backflips, putting half the ring between himself and Athan. Lloyd heard Brodelaw mutter to him, "This is where it gets interesting."
In the relatively dim light, Lloyd could see a slight glow around the other monk's arms. There was a faint murmur from the crowd. Then the rawboned monk threw a punch—and the glow left his arm and shot towards Athan.
Athan raised both arms just in time to block the projectile. The meaty thwack of the hit was heard through most of the large arena. Lloyd winced—there was no way that couldn't have hurt.
Athan broke into a run towards his right, circling his opponent. The bald monk responding with another of those projectile punches, expertly judging where Athan would be in the second it'd take to go that far.
Or where Athan would have been, if he hadn't changed direction while losing almost no speed. Lloyd's friend darted in, closing the distance and even dodging another of those long-range punches as he came in.
The other monk leaped into the air, too high for it to have been on pure muscle power. A glow gathered around his upraised fist.
But whatever attack he had intended, the crowd never saw. Athan leaped at him, bring his arm into an uppercut. Lloyd was sure he saw a brief burst of that light as the fist made contact with the man's chest. The impact knocked the man even further into the air, pushing him away from Athan.
Athan landed on his feet, but the other fighter landed flat on his face. Lloyd winced as the man groaned and tried to get up—then went limp. Athan walked the few steps over, and knelt by his opponent. After prodding him carefully, and extracting a groan, Athan carried the taller man to the healers, even as Brodelaw announced his victory.
As Athan took his place facing the screen, Brodelaw clapped a third time.
The man who came out was of average height (making him a few inches taller than Athan), with black hair and angular features—even the prominent nose seemed a bit sharp. But the crowd murmured because the man was marked with two dragons, and two floral designs—showing him to be a rank above Athan. The man looked every bit as built as Lloyd's friend.
Athan turned to look at his teacher inquiringly. Brodelaw nodded, and Athan nodded back, took a breath, and squared up with his opponent.
Clap.
They took up their stances. The crowd watched in extreme interest.
Lloyd, concerned about how fair this fight would be, looked at Sheena. She was watching the pair intently. When he tried to whisper to her, she shushed him. He turned back to the fight.
Clap.
It began.
Athan was worried, somewhere in the back of his mind. Upon obtaining a new rank, every monk fought against someone of the next rank up, to show him what he had left to learn. No one ever won these fights, but Athan had come closer than most—meaning he had always been able to hold his own for a while.
When he'd gotten his third rank the previous year, his opponent had been Rinus—the man in front of him now. Athan had done alright, putting up a gallant fight before Rinus had found some reserve of speed, and from then until the end of the match Athan had been unable to land a hit on him.
Now Rinus edged closer, his eyes locked on Athan's. His tempo changed abruptly, the man executing a long, relatively low jump, spinning to bring his foot around at Athan's head in a vicious kick. Athan ducked under it, and heard Rinus land behind him. Well-honed instincts made him turn as he rose, smashing out with a fist. He was rewarded with a thwack and the sight of Rinus staggering back, his blindside attack anticipated and countered.
Athan's elation was cut short when Rinus came back with a high, spinning kick. He barely got his arm up in time to block—and part of him shuddered at the thought of how that kick would have felt if it had landed.
Then Rinus snapped his leg down, and spun, catching Athan with a sweep. As Athan fell, he found his arm grabbed well before he hit ground, and then he was thrown. He recovered, landing a good ways across the arena and sliding a bit on his feet. He sprang upright and caught Rinus' fist as it came at him. That part of him still doing rational thought cursed him for an idiot for trying to catch a punch from someone of a higher rank—as they earned higher ranks, monks tended to get stronger. But then Athan caught the next punch with his free hand, and when Rinus tried to pull away, it dawned on both of them that Athan was the stronger of the pair.
Athan recovered first from the slight shock and yanked Rinus into his rising knee. He heard the grunt, and the ripple of applause from the crowd.
Then Rinus headbutted him.
Athan staggered back, seeing a blur, and was surprised when punches and kicks didn't rain on him. The haze cleared, and he saw Rinus straighten up, rubbing his stomach. He gave Athan a nod of respect, and set himself.
Athan came at him this time.
"Athan's probably the best monk we've ever had in the order," Brodelaw said quietly. "With his current ability, he could probably make the fourth rank if the rules allowed for us to test him so soon after he rose a rank—even if he doesn't quite realize it."
"So you're making him fight this guy to help him realize that?" Lloyd hazarded.
Brodelaw grinned. "Actually, I was just curious to see if he could win."
"You're awful," Lloyd smirked.
Athan was fighting by almost pure instinct—not consciously thinking about the fight, but reacting and countering well enough to hold his own. He was giving as good as he got, he vaguely realized.
Then Rinus withdrew, and Athan felt him gathering his body's energy. The monk had a sudden, unpleasant vision of the future. It involved pain.
Lloyd winced. Rinus had done some technique and now his speed had increased. Athan was now only to block or dodge about two out of three strikes—the third time, he was hit hard. Lloyd watched with heart sinking. Then Athan did something. A faint whitish glow was visible around him for a moment—then Lloyd saw the punch smash into the slightly blurred figure of Rinus, the man moving right into it and getting knocked flying.
Athan's mind worked furiously. How could you do that? Something in him was sorting through what he knew in a chain of reasoning.
…his order learned to increase and use the body's energy to perform techniques…
...a person's reflexes and therefore speed depended on the condition of their nervous system and muscle training…
…if he used the body's energy to increase the efficiency of his nervous system…
He gathered his body's energy and focused it inward. He almost laughed when he realized how easy this could be done. Really, it was just a matter of thinking it out. And he rather suspected it could be used to increase strength and durability. But right now, he needed an edge.
When the effect caught, then was a moment of nausea. Then it seemed everything other than him was suddenly much slower. Even Rinus seemed to be moving at below his normal speed, coming back at him from his landing. Athan watched the look of surprise spread across the man's eyes as Athan rushed him.
Athan spun and plant a solid kick into his opponent's ribs. Just slightly too slowly, Rinus tried to counter, and Athan found it easy to push the man's arm out of its intended course and land a few hits on his solar plexus. Athan would remember this technique.
Oh, yes, he'd remember it.
The crowd was still silent, but now it was silent because it was stunned. Rinus was so fast, his attacks had been blurred slightly, but Athan was blurring more than slightly. Sometimes the end of a limb went invisible as he swung, and he sometimes seemed to have more arms and legs than the usual amount.
Rinus fought back for another minute—a painful minute—and then, finally, he shouted, "I submit!"
Athan stopped blurring. Rinus straightened, making no move to defend himself.
Beside Lloyd, Brodelaw rose. "You submit, Rinus? To a monk of the third rank?" He called loud enough for the whole audience to hear.
"Yes, Master. I submit to Athan because I have no way to win against him. He could not have known the Catquick technique before he fought me, and he is already better than I with it. He is my superior, no matter what our rank indicates." He bowed low to Brodelaw, then to Athan.
Brodelaw shrugged, then boomed, "The victor is Athan Donu! The testing is over!"
There was applause throughout the audience. Lloyd clapped just as hard as anyone else—and then Sheena beside him stood up, still clapping. Lloyd followed suit, and then it spread through the whole audience.
Amid the applause, a woman who looked to be close to middle age came down from the seats and into the floor—where she embraced Athan. He returned the hug and, when he was released, turned to wave Sheena over to him.
Lloyd watched Sheena force herself to walk normally to her brother and her mother. He didn't try to go with her. Right then, it was time for Sheena and her family, together at last.