FOREVER CHANGED ❂
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Was it worth it?
Connor was at the top of his game. He had been preparing for years for this moment. The first day of the Greylibur Trail he performed his techniques with flawless execution. His competitor fell with relative ease. The Trial wasn’t just a single day of events. It was stretched out to three consecutive days. On the first day all fifty entrants would take part in their first match. By the end of the day only thirty-two participants remained.
The second day was just as rigorous. Instead of fighting once, the tournament demanded two battles, which left only eight individuals at the closing of the day. Throughout the whole affair Connor hoped he would not be paired with the man known as Ages. It would have been ideal if someone else eliminated him, but Connor watched every round Ages took part in. But the skilled swordsman bested every foe, which was unfortunate for Connor.
Connor could feel his body burning. Every fight was harder and more intense than the last. He could not imagine what it would be like to face Ages. He tried to think of what Theodore told him. He strived to remain calm, but it became increasingly difficult.
The third day was single-handedly one of the most difficult days of Connor’s life. Reminding him of such days as when his brother murdered a man; or the day his father and brethren were shot; or the day his father died; or the day he left his mother. He kept feeling those memories creep in upon until he could swear he heard his father’s judgmental voice.
Connor battled twice more, and twice more he was victorious. But his body was starting to feel the strain. His limbs ached and his muscles burned. His knuckles and fingers rang and shuddered, as if unable to escape the feeling of weighted metal smashing against metal. He felt as though he had been running for days. And to his dismay, Ages didn’t look quite so exhausted.
As he feared it was Aegeus who would serve as his final match. After a few hours respite, the two were pitted against one another in the dusty arena. The crowd was a riot of noise and cheering. He could feel their eyes on him. But he focused entirely on Ages. The man looked back with cold, remorseless black eyes. There was no doubt in Connor’s mind; he was out for blood.
The rules of the tournament were simple. Do not kill. But you could maim. Permanent injury was frowned upon, but not entirely against the rules. For instance, chopping off an entire limb would mean immediately disqualification — but accidentally chopping a finger off due to the negligence of an opponent was acceptable. The judges were the final say in the matter. They determined what was legal and what wasn’t.
Connor had taken some wounds however. When blades fly it is inevitable that the light armor just wasn’t enough. Even the slightest of cuts throbbed even as Connor remained motionless. At the sound both men went at it. They circled one another for quite a while until swords finally met.
At first the strikes were light. Each opponent tested the other. But in time they became heavier and more precise. The key was to throw off the balance of the other, but both men were very keen on how to fight — so the battle transformed into a spectacle. Connor and Ages had to dig deep and use techniques they never thought they’d have to use.
At first it looked like an even match, but eventually Ages began to take the lead. It was only a matter of time before things turned bad for Connor. In one instant everything went south. Ages did something he did not expect — he had caught Connor unawares and kicked dust into his eyes. A moment later Connor was left disarmed. Ages had both swords in hand.
But a combatant disarmed did not mean instant disqualification. Connor had the option to forfeit the match, but did not — even though he could barely see. The dirty tactic only made him more determined. The crowd waited and watched as the two men circled each other; Ages goading Connor the entire time.
Perhaps he expected Connor to forfeit, as breaking a master’s two sword defense was almost impossible. But Connor focused all of his emotions. All of the pent up frustration he had buried. All of it came bursting out at once. Connor leapt at Ages as though he was nothing more than an animal. Ages was certain his defense would hold — and in a way it did.
The crowd was silent. Connor had thrown himself upon his own sword. It protruded through his right shoulder, jabbed out of his backside, and cut through his shoulder blade. Since Connor had made the move, Ages would not be disqualified for stabbing him. Ages was caught off guard. In the moment Connor tangled up the man’s arm and disarmed him.
He quickly took up the blade and slammed the butt of it into Ages so hard that it knocked him to the ground. Connor kept the blade inside of him, but held out Ages’ sword and readied himself for the man’s next move. But Ages didn’t stand back up. The impact was far too much for him. At that point the judges called the fight. But the victor was not declared outright.
Both of the young men were rushed to the healers who began to tend to their wounds. The sword that Connor took into his own shoulder did not end his life. Once the adrenaline died down he felt the agony of it. Never in his life had he felt such pain. They withdrew the blade from his body and mended the wound as best they could, but it was still too early to determine whether he was crippled or not.
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Theodore came to visit Connor. He was not sure what to say. He did not expect Connor to sacrifice so much to achieve the victory. Ages would continue to use the sword with flawless perfection, but Connor may never be able to wield the blade the same way again. Hours passed and the judges deliberated. They had never seen anything quite like that before. They’ve seen ambitious fools cripple their opponents, but never had they seen someone willingly cripple themselves.
The judges eventually declared that since Ages failed to stand back up, and through technicality, Ages forfeited the match — meaning that Connor had won — but at too great of cost. His arm and shoulder were bandaged, but the gaping wound would take months to fully heal.
“Was it worth it?” Connor wondered. But Theodore stated what he said years before, “We grow in the face of adversity. It is the great struggles of life which allow us to better ourselves.”
In the months that followed Connor found that the pain never truly went away. While his muscles and tendons mended and regained strength, he could still feel the sharp ache of the blade. He could still fight with a sword, but it was a strain for him. He’d never fully recover from the injury and would forever wear the scar. In the end he repaid Theodore for all that he done with the winnings he had earned.
But the man refused to take it, despite Connor’s insistence. Theodore was torn about the outcome. In the end he saw his pupil win the day, but at great cost. Perhaps that was the true price after all. Dharen’Rhylo was a might to be feared indeed. To defeat it would almost currently leave scars that may never truly heal.
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Brethren of Brass
The conclusion of the Greylibur Trial saw a few things. One, Connor’s name found respect. Almost overnight people knew of the White Wolf of Ranfield. The second was that Connor’s combat training had officially come to an end. It would take time for Connor to heal, and Theodore felt bad enough for putting Connor through the affair.
But Connor proved his worth. While he was well known throughout Gabriel’s Hold, Theodore could see that it did not go to his head. If anything Connor became even more introverted. Theodore let Connor enjoy an extended vacation because it was clear he needed time to reflect. And heal both physically and mentally.
Throughout the early portion of 1035AB Theodore found that he had important business to address. The I’Loa insisted upon receiving more information about the Selnia Incident. Since his mind had been so focused on Connor, this was the first that Theodore had heard of it. He sent back word that he would investigate as best his position would allow.
So he set out to Alexandretta. As a Combat Sage he was welcomed by the ranks of the Father’s Sword, and his queries were seen as routine. By now much of Dharen’Rhylo had heard of what had happened. It was no mystery at all. The Selnia Colony was utterly destroyed.
That is when Theodore became aware of Silvanus. Apparently he was a former member of the Father’s Sword and ranked high enough to earn a unique title, Blood Wolf, which was stripped from him. The War Sage saw to it that everyone was aware of his failure. Xander wanted all to know what would happen to those who would draw a weapon against their leader.
Silvanus wasn’t put to public death; however, he was publicly shamed before being mysteriously shipped out into the wilderness. Theodore did not make a point to follow, but he took note of the situation. Connor’s brother was indeed under the thumb of the military, but apparently not for much longer.
He excused himself from Alexandretta and ventured back to Gabriel’s Hold. Once we returned to Connor he shared with him the regrettable news. Connor expressed a mixture of joy and disappointment. As though he had always known that such an outcome would befall his brother. But as Theodore proposed, “Your time here may be coming to an end my friend. I think your mission now resides in finding your brother once again.”
Connor somberly agreed. Theodore could see how weary the news made his pupil. So he pitched it differently. “Your brother has seen great hardship. You may be the only one who can save him from himself. Do not forget your promise to rebuild the tribe. Do not let your culture die with him.”
In time Connor began to understand and agree. “I’ve learned much from you master. I only wish to share some of that with him. Maybe we can rebuild.”
“You have the knowledge, you have the means, and you have the opportunity. Now is the time.” Theodore affirmed.
Theodore was right. Connor had everything he needed, including knowledge on where Silvanus may have been taken. The information was sketchy at best, but apparently he was exiled from Dharen’Rhylo and deposited on the western bank of the Great Central River.
Under the guidance of his master, Connor prepared for his journey. His home was now wherever he chose to make it, but he’d always have a place in Gabriel’s Hold. Theodore made certain of that. But before Connor left, Theodore gifted him one last trinket; the Brass Icon of the Combat Sage.
“Know that you will always find those willing to help you when you show them this.”
Connor did not know what to say. This was not just a gift. It was an invitation into the Order of the Combat Sages. Only few would ever know that honor. Connor believed that he was not worthy of it, especially after what he did during the Greylibur Trial. But Theodore insisted he take it, even if he chose not to wear it yet.
“Consider it a promise. A contract you can sign anytime. When you wish to wear it, seek out those who wear it too. They will send word to me. I want you to keep me informed of your journey Connor. Tell me of your people and the fate of your brother. You are my heir and always will be. You are leaving now will not change that.”
And with those parting words master and student said farewell. Connor took his things and ventured out of the city just as he came in so many years ago — on foot and alone.
To Be Continued