Chapter 17: The Way of the Sword

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Did that make sense to you? What you just saw written there? No, seriously, did it? I’m referring to this:

foj okqh vs0 8yg8cb

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Did that make sense to you? No? Oh, okay. Just checking. Because, cards on the table? It didn’t make sense to Zach either, yet he was pretty sure it was his favorite color after a wooden sword materialized in the air behind him and walloped him over the top of his head so gods-damn hard that his dead father would now have to be resurrected just to feel it.

He dropped straight down to the grass, or maybe it was straight up to the grass? He didn’t know. The whole world was spinning. He couldn’t even tell what direction he was facing. As far as he was aware, he was hanging upside down like a bat.

“Uh oh,” a voice said. “I think I hit too hard. Zach okay?”

He opened his mouth to reply, and then he immediately moved his hand to cover it as a wave of nausea brought him to the verge of vomiting out his breakfast. Somehow, he fought off the urge and waited for the sickness to subside—and it did. All at once, too. Mere seconds ago, he’d been doubled-over with queasiness, dizziness, and an ache in his head that was so bad he hadn’t even begun to feel it yet, as it was one of those types of pain that had a delayed onset like when he’d bump his head on something. There would be this brief moment between the bump and the agony. Except, this time, the pain did not come.

I feel…actually okay, he realized.

It occurred to him that he was now on his knees on the grass, and a dark green, sparkling combination of mist and steam was surrounding him like a blanket, one that was quickly thinning out and rising upwards as it faded out of existence. It both cooled and refreshed him. Behind the mist, Fluffles could be seen gawking at him from widened, amber eyes.

“You okay?” the cat asked.

“Y-yeah, what was that?”

“That Healing Mist. I can only do once a week. It my only heal.”

The last remnants of the green mist thinned into nonexistence, and now Zach was once more assaulted by the intense heat from the bright, unrelenting sun. With a slow, deep breath, he cautiously got back to his feet, glad to see there was no dizziness or nausea. In fact, he not only felt fine, but he felt better than he had when waking up in the motel this morning. His aches and pains were all but extinguished and his tired, sore muscles refreshed.

“Wow, that’s incredible,” Zach said, clenching and unclenching his fists. Only then did he realize that he’d dropped his sword. He squatted down and grabbed it, then marveled at the fact that his bicep, shoulder, and back did not erupt in extreme discomfort as he swung it around a few times in the air in front of him.

“Zach…Zach mad at Fluffles?”

He smiled at the cat. “Nope. That was my fault. I was sloppy.” He gripped the blade with both of his hands and assumed a fighting stance. “I’m ready to keep going.”

Fluffles meowed. “Zach make his cat so proud. Good human.”

Zach laughed at the compliment, then apologized to Fluffles for laughing. The cat seemed to intensely dislike being laughed at even if it wasn’t malicious or intended to insult, mock, or embarrass him. It was something Zach had to constantly remind himself not to do.

“Let’s keep going,” he said.

Fluffles looked over his shoulder at their backpack, which was a few yards away. “Snack first.”

Zach wanted to argue, but given that Fluffles had just used some insanely awesome healing ability on him, he sort of felt like he’d earned this one, and so he quickly jogged over to his backpack, unzipped the primary pouch, and removed the can of CatYums Chicken & Beef he’d brought with him to the park, snapping open the top and setting it down for him.

Fluffles made a loud, happy meow and scurried over to it, burying his nose inside the can and munching it up with an almost religious fervor. Zach smiled, glad to see him enjoying it. Yet he only half paid attention, as even while he watched the cat gobble it all down, in the back of his mind, he was deep in thought replaying every move he’d learned, imagining scenarios in which each might be required.

I can’t believe how much progress I’m making, he thought.

For the past three days, he had returned to the field at the crack of dawn every morning with Fluffles, and the two of them had spent almost every hour of daylight going over a myriad of strikes, counterstrikes, and footwork.

To Zach’s surprise and joy, he discovered he had a genuine knack for swordplay. Fluffles himself had said so, and though initially, Zach thought the cat was just being a “good buddy” and trying to be nice, the more he trained, the more he realized that he was selling himself short and that he clearly had a natural talent. He was absorbing information and memorizing movements so fast it amazed even himself. It reminded him of how quickly he had learned the toadfeet’s movement patterns in the underground cavern. If he stuck with this long enough, he wondered how good he could actually become.

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I’m glad I let Fluffles convince me to stay, he thought.

Their very first day here, Zach had been so excited about having a sword of his own that he’d lost track of time, and he’d allowed Fluffles to teach him strike after strike until the sun had begun to set in the sky. By this point, Zach had drenched himself in sweat so many times over that he’d likely smelled worse than a dead animal.

“I guess we’re stuck in this town for the night,” he’d said, to which Fluffles hadn’t seemed to care. “We need to find a place to stay for the night, and I desperately need a shower.”

Fortunately, according to his phone’s GPS, there was a quaint, cozy little family-run motel not a five-minute walk from the park, and he’d decided to try his luck there first before going somewhere farther away, which he had dearly hoped would not be necessary as, by this point, his legs and knees had become so sore that he hadn’t even been able to pedal his bike, needing instead to wheel it away from the park. Ultimately, what should have been a five-minute walk—and maybe less than half of that by bike—had taken almost a half-hour as Zach limped his way to the motel. Having parked his bicycle just outside the entrance, Zach had gone inside to book a room for the two of them.

To his dismay, it had looked like luck would not be on his side, as with a sad but firm frown, the receptionist—who owned the business with her husband—had informed Zach that no animals were allowed due to the risk to their furniture. She’d even gone on to say that she personally loved cats and had four of her own, but that this was purely a business decision.

Zach had weakly turned around to leave, resigned to his fate, when Fluffles had spoken to the woman, causing Zach to moan in anguish; he had been far too fatigued to go through that whole thing again. Amazingly, however, this time around, there’d been a completely different ending.

Much like the woman had at the convenience store, the receptionist initially reacted with astonishment and disbelief. Yet, unlike the previous woman, after recovering from her initial shock, she’d slowly begun engaging in a conversation with Fluffles, who whined innocently about how tired and exhausted the two of them were and how “he was a good cat who won’t hurt the beautiful lady’s furniture.”

That last line had seemed to do the trick. And so, after insisting she be allowed to introduce her husband and two young children to the “amazing, miraculous talking cat,” Zach had simply left Fluffles down there with her and went up to the 50-gold-per-night room to take a shower. Fluffles hadn’t seemed to mind, and he’d spent almost an hour down there chatting away with the woman and her family, bragging—actually bragging—about how good of a cat he was and how well behaved. Even as he’d been walking up to the second floor of the three-floor motel, Zach had been able to hear four sets of voices all swearing that Fluffles was “such a good cat” and “the cutest of all cats.”

“Do you promise?” Zach could hear him asking. “Fluffles is the best and cutest?”

“Yes! You’re the prettiest little kitty.”

“Say again, human!”

Zach had merely sighed, knowing this was going to go straight to his head. Because having spent some time with him by this point, he already knew that the praise from this family could—and would­—actually be raised in a future argument the next time they got into one. Zach had even been able to imagine it right there on the spot. At some point, the two of them would get into an argument, and as evidence of why Fluffles’ position was correct, he would almost certainly mention the fact that that woman and her family had said he was the “best cat in the world”, and therefore whatever they were arguing about didn’t matter, because Zach must be wrong to disagree with “the best” cat. It was going to be annoying but…but at least they’d found a place to stay, and Zach had found a place to shower.

As a sign of how much Fluffles had liked the woman and her family, he’d gone out of his way to ask Zach to carefully open the latch on the window so that he could come and go as he pleased, which had been something Zach had intended to do anyway. In fact, not only had Fluffles opted not to break the window, he’d even yelled at Zach for dripping too much on the bathroom floor after coming out of the shower.

“Zach make pretty nice lady’s bathroom a swimming pool!” he’d yelled. “You make Fluffles look bad because I promise be nice to room. Why no wipe up water?”

“Little buddy,” Zach had said, draped in a towel, grunting between words. “I can’t even bend over or move right now.” Fluffles had hissed and unsheathed his claws. “All right, fine.”

With a burning soreness that followed each and every motion he made, Zach had needed to bend down, groaning, and dry the little bit of dampness that Fluffles had totally exaggerated about being left on the bathroom floor. Then, limping his way into bed, he’d passed out asleep.

When he awoke the next morning, well-rested and with his energy levels restored, he had been disgruntled to discover that, though he was no longer fatigued, his muscles were still very much sore and aching. Even still, he’d wanted to get a move on so that the two of them could get to the next spawn point as soon as possible. Yet Fluffles had made a fuss, downright demanding they continue Zach’s training for another day.

At first, Zach had been reluctant to spend any more time—let alone an entire day—back in the park practicing swordsmanship; he’d been in an anxious rush to get going the following morning, but Fluffles was unusually adamant that they continue. The cat had even told him that if Zach continued to go after the “shiny sky-ball,” he would just stay right there and Zach would have to go by himself. Somehow, he didn’t think the cat was bluffing, and so, for the second day in a row, Zach had pushed his body and his muscles to the limit as he learned the way of the sword—and he was glad that he had.

It had been on this second day that he fully saw the fruits of his previous day’s training. He’d been stunned at how deftly he could now block and parry the attacks Fluffles had demolished him with the day prior, and what was more, he had even come up with a few new flourishes of his own. By the time the sun had set on the second day, Fluffles had not needed to ask twice to convince Zach to spend at least one more day training.

And so now, with his sword gripped and ready to go, he waited for Fluffles to continue today’s lesson. Yet, it appeared the cat had something else in mind, as he approached Zach and sat down on the grass just a few inches in front of him.

“Zach ready for test,” he said.

“Test?” Zach replied, becoming somewhat nervous.

“Yes. I give test.”

“What kind of test?”

“If Zach can survive five minutes with Fluffles, he ready to go chase ball again.”

Zach blinked in confusion. “Really?”

“Yes. Zach has to last five minutes and then we go find spawn.”

Zach nodded. “Okay, well in that case, I accept.” He twirled the blade in his hands. “How hard can that be?”