Legacy of the Defender (The Defender Series Book 1) (3 page)

III

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The bright morning rays peeked over the realm and found their way into my eyes.  I tried to fight off this intruder by swinging at it with an open hand, not realizing it was only the sun.  My efforts seemed in vain when suddenly it went dark.  My hand lowered instinctively, only to feel something strike me right on the sweet spot, still sore from yesterday.  I winced and coughed as the rib moved.  My muscles started to spasm.  Both eyes shot open, and I struggled to focus on the shadow.

“Get up.  It is time to train,” said a voice.

I started to mumble under my breath about unfair treatment and got another jab to the rib.  It amazed me how fast he was.  For someone who gave the appearance he was not martial in any way, he regularly beat the daylights.  Fortunately, he used lessons to do it.  He saw me wince and lose my balance only to catch it again before falling towards the fire.  A very warm stone saved me.  A few choice words escaped my lips while I regained my feet.  Holding my side, I managed to catch my breath.

“It is not healing yet?” he asked.

“No, it is not.  I think that staff strike broke a rib.”

“That is unfortunate.  However, you cannot allow it to slow you down.  When you are surrounded by your foes, they will not relent just because you are wounded.”  He poked me in rib on the most painful spot and I nearly blacked out.

“I get the point of the lesson, Master,” I said, grimacing.

“Stop calling me that.  I am not your master.  I am your teacher.  Soon you will meet the one that you will call master,” he said.

“When will he come?”  I asked.

He ignored my question.  It seemed to me that whenever I asked an obvious question, there was never an easy answer.  He spoke in riddles.  A forthright answer would be nice.  Watching martial arts movies taught me that masters were always full of riddles.  Once, after he punched me in the face, I asked him why.

“Because I can,” was his response.

My nose remained broken for weeks because he kept smacking it when my attention wandered.

It took weeks for me to get used to his constant strikes.  Then one day they stopped.  When asked why he stopped the response was always silence.  His ways seemed odd on so many levels.  My training was never dull. 

My studies progressed from basic hand-to-hand fighting, which I loved, to an introduction to weapons.  Jason tried to teach me staff, but that did not prepare me in any way for the first day of weapons’ training with Malnuras.  Without a word, he attacked me with his staff and managed to break mine in two.  I attacked with a flurry of blows using the two halves, but it did not matter, for none of them landed.  My surprise was apparent, yet he did not break a smile or show any emotion during the brutal onslaught.

As we trained, Malnuras finally told me about the hand-to-hand style he had taught me.  He said it was the art taught to many warriors of the ancient world.  The Spartans had mastered it and even changed it to become the root system for all the martial arts back on earth.  They called it
pure form
.  It was fast, deadly, and beautiful all in one motion.  The Spartans took the grace out of it and made it straight killing.  I had never thought of myself as graceful, but now, after many days of learning, he handed me a staff.

“Defend yourself.” 

We sparred for quite a while.  Then he hit me so hard I flew back and landed flat on my back against a jagged rock.  My rib was obviously broken again.  The beating he delivered was brutal, but my state of conditioning could usually take it without breaking too many bones.  Exactly how many times my muscles had been sprained or torn during training was beyond counting.  This time it was severe enough that he stopped and addressed the damage.  To both our surprise, the rib was protruding.  His ability to heal me was still very weird for me.  It took a while to accept that magic existed and that there was more to the world than even the world knew.  Seeing it, as he mended my flesh, was unreal.

It soon became commonplace to me.  Injuries occurred less and less due to my learning how to fall, roll with a punch or kick, and take a hit properly.  In turn, he healed me less frequently, teaching me to rely on my body to fix itself.  My life had turned into daily damage control because even though my skill was good, his was masterful.  I had to get faster and act, not react.  My strength was building up to be able to hold my own weight in any position, and my reflexes were coming along to the point that falling and losing my balance was rare.  Although they were superior, my teacher’s skills had wisdom and experience behind them.  He always found an opening, and it always hurt.

Our campfire was still burning hot, providing much needed warmth.  The sun’s rays began to warm the ground, and the mist rose gently, blocking the view of the mountains.  The mist showed no signs of dissipation.  Sometimes it hung thick like a veil cloaking everything in a shroud of moisture.

Our camp was located in a small valley that had a box end canyon a few hundred yards deep.  It would be difficult for something to traverse the surrounding terrain to get at us.  Without knowing what to look for, there was no real path to the untrained eye.  In the event a random intelligent life form happened to see the carefully concealed pathway, it would not know there was a camp nearby without the aid of other senses.  The fire was not only smokeless but also created by unnatural means unknown to me.

There was always food ready to go in the morning.  Some meat that tasted like bacon, though a mystery, cooked to perfection every time.  Hard-boiled eggs sat nestled in a bowl covered with a towel made of some strange looking fiber.  It was delicious food and stayed with me for most of the day.  An assortment of different fruits and vegetables always grew near the camp even when we moved it.  With so much plentiful food, the need to snack or eat very much was not there. 

After breakfast, my first task of the day was to head to a river that was about a mile or two away and wash my clothes from the day before while bathing.  Malnuras told me that staying clean was just as important as eating good meals.  A healthy life style was something I learned at home but had never truly put it to the test before, as my mother provided all of these things for me.  It fell to me to handle this task myself after my teacher threw me in the water fully clothed to bathe and wash the smell.  I smiled.  That day seemed so long ago already.  My teacher had a sensitive nose, but it was more about establishing dominance over me or maybe even just teaching me a lesson about taking care of me every day.

As I left, Malnuras had his nose in his tome.  I was barely outside of the camp when I heard his voice.  "Do not forget your sword."

"Pardon me teacher, no offense but that is not for real fighting.  I am just doing my laundry.  I am sure you can smell me."  He did not speak another word as I departed with my task.

This morning was an exceptional day being that I could barely move but strangely felt good.  The trail to the river was not a rough one but did require good balance and land navigation skills to avoid many cuts and bruises.  It took me about thirty or so minutes I guessed, since I had no clock or watch, to traverse the terrain that day.  Walking did hurt from yesterday’s lesson, but each step and knowing how good the water would feel gave me new vigor, and I stepped up my pace.  It was hard not to hasten my steps, but I learned that lesson already.  We chose our camp with this in mind.

Standing over the river, I gazed at my reflection and then looked at a low hung tree behind me near water.  It showed me to be a little taller with a pronounced jawline.  Mirrors did not exist here, and the last time I used one was the morning my life changed in fact.  Days ran into weeks or months.  How much time had passed escaped me now?  It was a different feeling knowing that your body was lying in some bed in a hospital asleep.  Malnuras did not tell me what the condition was other than being in a coma, only that I was recovering from the accident.  Having seen the actual event, it had not been a pretty sight.  Sadly, my memory of it was sparse so seeing it first hand by using the campfire was the only real way I could see it.  It all seemed so long ago.

My thoughts went to Jason for a few moments, wondering how he was and if he recovered okay. 
Maybe he was out in the woods
. 
Did he even think of our time as friends or our adventures?
  I could not imagine what he must have been going through regarding that day’s events.  I hoped he was okay.  He had to be.  Aside from my stepfather, he was the toughest person I knew in my life.  Nothing could keep him down. 

My thoughts shifted to the girls at the lake.  Had Jason gone back there later in the summer? Was he dating one of them by now?  He always had better luck with the ladies.  The crazy things we were doing to try to impress them by jumping our bikes off the dock made a smile for a moment.  The other girls name still escaped me. 

A bubbling sound in the river caught my attention and jarred me back to the present.  Things were different, of course, and my priorities had changed drastically.  Malnuras told me my new life was beginning the morning after arriving, the day he quite literally threw me in the river after commenting on my smell.

It was so many days ago, I lost track
. 

Malnuras had really yet to tell me where we were.  He simply referred to it as a realm that was not on earth.  The only time he ever really talked about it was the first few days after we arrived.  I asked if we were somewhere on earth; he cuffed me on the back of the head, telling me to focus on the task.  Never striking me out of anger, he always had a purpose to it, even if it felt abusive.  I always felt he had a reason for it other than to cause me pain.  Strangely, he seemed to be doing what my father failed to do: make a man out of me the right way.

I fell back into my task of cleaning my clothes.  The substance used was like soap, but would not hurt the river.  I did not know its composition, but it did the job even in the cold water of the river.  Even when rinsed, the residue from it vanished as if it was never there.  In the end, the clothes were clean and smelled good.  Many moments passed trying to figure out what it was which delayed the task of cleaning my clothes.  My previous tardiness earned me undesirable tasks usually involving a shovel and the latrine we had made near the camp.

The river moved with its gentle current.  I could wade across it without the water reaching my chin, fish swimming around my feet the whole time.  Sometimes they brushed up against me, which used to freak me out.  It was sort of funny that I did not have to fish for dinner.  I simply walked into the water and grabbed one or two.  They tried to get away once that happened, but it was almost as if they knew they were to become dinner and did not swim away at my approach.  Sometimes, they even came up to the shore and swam around me while I washed my clothes or myself.  The shoreline allowed me to step down into a slight rocky bottom, which made it ideal and was why I came to the location.  The depth was about two feet right at the bank.

That day was different.  There were no fish, and the water was muddy as if something had been disturbing it. 
Something swam in the water!
  I rose from a squat position and slowly stepped back, watching the surface in anticipation of something about to reveal itself.  There were minor ripples as the gentle current flowed by me.  I found it odd that even with a current that the water remained cloudy in this area.  Something had to be in the water because no fish were by the shore and the visibility was gone.  A noise came from my left.  I realized my mistake when there was an explosion of water to my right and something flew out of the river, knocking me over in an attempt to pin me down.

All I saw was a blur until it was on top of me.  Dark gray skin covered a sleek muscled frame standing on two legs.  It moved so fast it was not possible to get a look at it until its jaw latched onto my leg.  There were spikes on the top of its head for causing puncture wounds, more than likely deep, bleeding wounds.  The bleeding would wear down its opponent.  Thankfully, the spikes missed and I did not go down.  Its teeth were, however, very sharp but smaller, like a lizard.  I could feel dozens of punctures on my leg.  I knew these wounds could easily turn into large gashed if the monster or I started thrashing too violently.  The creature did not take me down.

The creature had no arms, but very large tendrils protruded from its cheeks that enabled it to hold onto its prey.  A fluid oozed onto my skin, followed by a numbing sensation likely to cause paralysis.  Seconds passed before it started to grind its teeth.  The flesh began to rip and a small part of me was almost thankful that it dulled the pain slightly as the debilitation started.  A cold sensation worked its way up my thigh, slowly at first.  Within seconds, it hit my hip and my balance failed.  I toppled over and started punching the thing repeatedly in the head as hard as I could.

The creature squealed each time I struck.  Sounds echoed from my right, bringing me hope it was Malnuras.  Sadly, I was mistaken; a second set of tendrils hit my arm, yanked me off balance even more, and held my torso slightly off the ground.  The teeth sunk in and the fluid flowed, numbing me further.  I tried to pull my right arm free and continue to hit the one on my leg intermittently.  Its skull was not cracking and it showed no signs of letting go.  Changing my tactics, I aimed for its eye.  Using my thumb, I pressed into the soft tissue and hard as possible.  Fluid burst forth and a roar came out of its mouth.  It did not let up but increased the pressure, finding bone.