Malcipher lay on the ground and struggled to breathe. Altum's ever silent apostle stood over him staring down. After three breaths he motioned for Malcipher to rise. Malcipher could only get to an elbow before falling back to the ground.

From across the courtyard, Altum hollered, "If that is all you have my little lord meat puppet, then this is not the school for you."

I'm going to gut him one of these days.

As if heard his thoughts, Altum yelled, "You'll never be able to beat me if you can't even land a blow on my unarmed student."

Malcipher channeled his rage and rolled over and dragged himself up onto his knees. There he spied Halsh and Altum sipping on glasses of something that looked refreshing. His fists balled up in anger and he punched the ground hard enough to embed the sand into his knuckles. He stood and wavered then went back to the weapons rack and pulled free the first weapon he could put his hand on.

He studied the bladed tonfun. It consisted of a heavy cleaver falchion with a false edge and a weight forward design that would do horrifying things on a slash or stab if the tonfa was extended. The other end consisted of a smaller version of the large edge that extended nine inches past the handle if the larger blade pointed backwards. In close combat, he could punch through leather armor and probably anything short of plate. He tested the weight and then grabbed its twin from the rack, swung both larger blades forward and back. Also, the sharpened false edge would make his elbows deadly in close combat. He tested the blades again and stood ready.

The silent apostle nodded his head urging Malcipher to come. Malcipher strode forward in a boxer's stance. The edges were facing the apostle, giving him fewer targets on Malcipher's upper body. The apostle walked on an arc drawing Malcipher off of his straight line course while closing the distance. The two stood feet from each other walking in a tight circle, Malcipher intense and brooding while the unarmed apostle stood relaxed and fluid.

Malcipher began with an opening salvo of jabs to test the apostle's reaction. The apostle ducked and weaved stepping back to gain a bit of distance. Malcipher drew back with his right hand like he was going to throw a haymaker but let the blade spin out. The larger blade extended and he swung an overhand diagonal slash that whistled past the apostle's chest by less than an inch.

The apostle smiled and dashed into Malcipher's exposed right flank. Malcipher spun the tonfa back into position and threw his bladed forearm out to catch any blows then spun his torso and brought his left arm up as a shield and deterrent. With another step, he was back in his stance and in balance.

The apostle rolled his neck and cast a glance towards the Altum and then nodded. He slid into a stance on his back leg, stared at Malcipher and waited. Malcipher had no choice but to wade into his enemies striking range and kept a watchful eye for kicks. He leaned in for a jab and the apostle disappeared. He felt the kick that hyperextended his knee and saw a flash as the disciple rose inside of his guard and delivered a devastating knee to his chin. He grabbed the top of Malcipher's forearms and with a crushing strength, rolled his arms outward. The edges of both of Malcipher's blades pointed at the apostle's ribcage. Malcipher swiftly tried to take advantage of that. Until a bright light of pain exploded in his head, causing everything to dim.

He woke up on the ground to a coppery taste in his mouth and didn't remember how he got there. A few of his teeth were missing too. He looked up and saw the apostle holding both of his weapons with his foot extended straight in the air. He tried to get to his knees but his arms felt like wet noodles. He swayed for a mere second before his arms crumbled and he fell onto his face.

Malcipher coughed as the dust got into his lungs and rolled to his side gasping before trying to rise again. He heard a clap of thunder. It repeated again and again. He looked over to see Altum clapping. Halsh walked over keeping his distance from the apostle and sat Malcipher up.

"Here you go, Milord." Halsh handed him an unstoppered bottle. "Just hurry and drink it. You'll feel better after."

Malcipher listened and drank the contents of the bottle. It washed away the copper taste and replaced it with rotten tree bark, the sweat from an unwashed prisoner who had rolled in their own filth, and the syrupy aftertaste of honey and mint. The mint aftertaste didn't help. When he tried to spit it out, Halsh held the bottle to his lips and forced him to finish.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"Gah! What was that?"

"Healing potion, Milord."

Malcipher noticed that the apostle's fingers had ripped through his clothes and traced deep furrows into his forearms when he disarmed him. Though fresh, the wounds were closing rapidly. He also felt the beginnings of his teeth mending.

"Why does it taste so bad?"

"I don't know, Milord. All the good potions would put an outhouse to shame in the taste department."

Malcipher finally had the strength to stand. The apostle waited there and bowed towards him and walked off placing the tonfas back on the rack.

"I believe Altum would like to have a word with you."

"Altum can eat poop for all I care."

"I think you'd want to hear what he has to say, Milord."

Malcipher grimaced and looked past Halsh's shoulder at the man splayed across his chair.

"Fine lets get this over with."

They approached Altum who was smiling glibly. "Well I guess I can't call you lord meat puppet anymore."

Malcipher spit, partially in distaste of Altum and partially in distaste of the potion's remnants.

"I guess I'll just call you meat puppet now. If you decide to join my school, you'll have no lordship in my walls. No special treatment. Do you agree?"

"Why would I want to be in your school and get beaten all day?"

"You are under the misconception that I was instructing you. This was all a test."

"A test? You beat me senseless for a test?" Malcipher raged.

Halsh put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head with a look that implored him to listen. When he finally turned back to Altum he was glowering but in control.

"Why a test?" He asked again, barely able to control his anger.

"Three reasons." Altum held up three fingers. "Firstly, I had to make sure you weren't a crybaby. Coddling some soft-palmed, spoiled fop isn't my style and the lords and ladies know as much. Secondly, I wanted to see if you had fire and determination. You have a fighter's spirit if not their ability, yet. Thirdly, I needed to know which weapon you'd be good at. It influences the training regimen. Even though I'm skilled with most weapons, some no luck with their weapon skills."

He sat back in his chair and took massive gulps of his drink and let out a satisfied sigh. "So would you like me to teach you to fight?"

"You put me through all of this to see if I would rise to the occasion or curl up into a ball?"

"Ah, you begin to see my points." He noticed Malcipher's raging glower and said, "Let me ask you a question. Would you rather have a battle-hardened warrior by your side or someone who talks the talk and gets their legs broken when they try to walk the walk?"

Malcipher didn't answer.

"Keyes, which would you choose?" Altum asked the shadow ranger.

"The battle-hardened warrior." Halsh responded without a second thought.

"And which do you think your lord is?"

Halsh said nothing.

Altum turned to Malcipher. "The fact that he's saying nothing should let you know which he thinks you are." He lifted the skin, his eyes never leaving Malcipher and quaffed again.

"You have an opportunity here meat puppet. I will not bow my head and beg and grovel at your feet looking for acceptance. I fought my way to where I am and I will continue to fight to stay here. Any less and I would be doing myself and my students a disservice. I will ask once more. Would you like to learn from me?"

"I have one question before I answer yours," Malcipher said with resolve.

"Ask it."

"What weapon did you pick for me?"

"Shrewd and angry. I like you more each moment, meat puppet. I will tell you when you join my school. But if you had any awareness of combat classes, you would know."

"The last ones, whatever they were."

Altum quirked and eyebrow and took a drink with a smile on his lips. "Maybe."

"Fine, I'll join your school. But if you don't teach me how to destroy my opponents, you will rue the day."

"You will have plenty of time to rue the day, starting tomorrow." Altum waved a dismissive hand at him. "Be here at sunrise. If you're late training will be even harsher."

Halsh bowed to Altum and walked towards the gate.

Malcipher turned to leave.

"No, no, meat puppet. We are student and teacher now and I demand respect. Bow to your teacher or I will thrash you where you stand."

Malcipher felt a cold dark aura roll over his grave and looked Altum in the eye. There he only saw death and pain. He swallowed loudly and bowed respectfully.

"This is a student teacher relationship and proper discipline and respect must be maintained. Forget your status again meat puppet and you will pay in flesh."

Malcipher shuddered, bowed and walked away from Altum as fast as he could.

"See you tomorrow," he yelled cheerfully at the duo. "And shadow ranger bring some drink. The good stuff if you can find it."

Halsh raised a hand in acknowledgment.

When they were outside of the gates Malcipher said, "That man is a maniac."

"When I first heard his name I thought it sounded familiar and as we talked I realized who he was. You couldn't ask for a better teacher."

Malcipher was puzzled. "Why?" he asked.

"That is Altum the unkillable, or Altum the immortal. He was a slave forced to fight in the arena from the age of six. At nine years old he killed a full-grown rheeghast with his bare hands. He almost died doing it and slept for three months as he healed. But they say no man alive could win against him."

Malcipher listened intently as Halsh continued doling out information on Altum.

"He began fighting multiple armed opponents with his bare hands. He has forgotten more about fighting than I ever knew."

"So, he's not all mouth?"

"No, Milord, and you would do well to remember that."

"I will take your advice, as it strengthens me."