The Realm, Chapter 12: Training

Written by Shaela Druyon Sunday, 18 December 2011 00:00

 Alex opened his eyes to find Jase and Faringer watching him expectantly from the bedside.  The boy released his grip on the sword and Faringer returned it to its sheath at his side without shifting his gaze from Alex.  The silence lengthened, filled only by crickets chirping outside the window and an owl’s hooting.

Alex looked from Jase’s eager eyes to the older man’s guarded ones, a smile slowly spreading across his face.  “Let’s get started,” he said, throwing the covers back and swinging his legs over the bed.  The others drew back in surprise.

“Get started?”  Jase repeated dumbly.

“I’ve got a lot to learn if I’m going to follow the King.”

“You want to…”

Jase suddenly leaped up into the air with a hoot, and though Faringer remained in his seat, the smile on his lips was equally pleased.

“Alex, you are making the best decision of your life!”  the older boy went on, clapping Alex on the back.  “Wait till you meet him—I mean, really meet him.  Wait until you enter his service…learn to fight for him, with him.”  That glow had crept back onto Jase’s features, making him look both younger and infinitely mature at the same time.

“He’ll have to learn quickly, and as we travel at that,” put in Faringer.  “The Enemy won’t sit idly, especially now that you’ve made a decision.  He’ll send shades out in full force.”

Alex’s excitement drained slightly at the reminder.  “I’m still marked…”

“And the Lord of Darkness would keep it that way, for by joining the King, you thwart him twice: by renouncing his claim on your soul, and by strengthening the King’s forces.”

“I can’t imagine anyone viewing me as much of a threat,” said Alex.

“You, no,” answered Faringer matter-of-factly, “but He who has the power to work through you.  And the plan He has for you—that Dar’Ul would try to thwart with all the powers of Sheol at his disposal.”

There was a moment of silence as the truth of those words reverberated in their hearts. 

Abruptly, Faringer stood.  “And that is why we don’t have a moment to lose.”

After giving brisk directions to Jase about what things to prepare for the journey, the older man went out of the room, then came back carrying a bundle of traveling clothes that he threw on the bed for Alex with a gruff, “These should fit you,” before going outside to fetch water for the flasks.

Jase began gathering equipment and filling three packs on the table while Alex changed out of his bedclothes and into the new attire.  A forest green tunic hung halfway to his knees, which were covered by the light-brown trousers fitting loosely around his legs.  He buckled on the leather belt and boots—dark brown, like earth—then shrugged into the long hide jacket, which still had the head of the beast it was made from attached to the hood.  Some kind of jackal, Alex thought—one he had never seen before.

Everything fit him well, if a bit loose, and felt warmer and more comfortable than his old clothes, which had done little to block out the chill air of this land.

“Where did Faringer get these?  It’s not like I saw a rustic clothes shop around anywhere.”

Jase didn’t respond right away, as if choosing his words carefully.  “They were his son’s.”

“Oh,” Alex said.  “I didn’t know Faringer has a son.”

The door had just opened, and Faringer entered the room with a bucket of water.  Jase returned to putting supplies into the packs while the older man brought the bucket to the table, opened three water flasks with weathered fingers, and carefully tipped water into each of them.

“Had a son,” he said finally, his voice flat.  “Had your build at that age, too,” he went on, putting the stoppers into the flasks.  “Tall, lanky.”  A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as he set the flasks on the table next to Jase.  “No one expected him to fill out like he did, to become such a powerful warrior...”

Faringer looked suddenly older, pain deepening the wrinkles on his face at memories Alex could only guess at.  Without another word, he took the bucket and left the cabin.

“What happened?”  Alex said as soon as he was sure Faringer was no longer in earshot.  He felt a pang of compassion for the older man, sure that a great sense of loss still burdened him.

Jase fastened the buckle on the first pack and tossed it to Alex who caught it and unconsciously put it around both shoulders, cinching up the straps to his armpits.

“He Turned.”

“What?”

Jase threw the second pack around his shoulders and took up a walking staff leaning against the wall.  “His son didn’t die, Alex, though some would say Turning is worse than death.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look, we don’t have time to explain it all now, but—”  Jase threw another walking staff to Alex, who managed to catch it without looking too awkward, then picked up the last pack and headed for the door.  “—his name was Kael.  One of the best warriors the Chosen had seen in generations.  Really, the things he could do with a sword...”

A smile had crept onto his face, but it slid away as he opened the door and motioned for Alex to follow him into the night.  “Everyone thought for sure he’d become an Honored, that he’d be able to win back territory stolen by Dar’Ul, and rescue those of the Chosen held captive in his strongholds.  But when Kael met with the King one day, something changed in him.”  They stopped at the back of the cabin, waiting for Faringer.  “Then he left, joined the Enemy…Turned.  No one knows why.  But it was a heavy blow to those who knew him.”

“Did you?”

“Well, yeah.  I mean, everyone knew his story—youngest ever to join the Chosen, strong, likeable…a natural wielder—but meeting him in person just made you want to be like him.  He’s the reason I began to seek the King out.”

“Why do you think he Turned?”

Jase shrugged, his eyes peering into the forest, but just as he opened his mouth to voice his thoughts, Faringer came around the corner carrying the rest of their supplies.  He tossed something to Jase, who snatched it from the air while setting aside his walking staff.

“I noticed you’re missing a blade, so figured you could use my spare.”

The older boy unsheathed a battered blade from the object and moved it gracefully through the air, hefting its weight, testing its balance with a hungry smile.  He gave it a few skillful thrusts and flicks before deftly returning it to its sheath with a nod.  “It’ll do.”

“It’ll do you better than that.  She’s my first sword—served me faithfully through many a battle.  If I find you’ve mishandled her, you’ll have to answer to me.”

Jase buckled it onto his belt, tossing a grin at the older man.  “Thank you, Faringer.  I’ll treat her like my own.”

The older man snorted, “Then I should grieve her loss now.”

Alex chuckled at their banter, but everyone grew suddenly quiet as Faringer turned to him and held something out. 

It was another sheathed sword.

“Take it,” Faringer said as Alex hesitated.

His hands trembled as he gripped the handle of the blade and withdrew it from its casing with a metal whisper.

“It was Kael’s first one…”

Alex looked up from examining the blade to stare at the older man.

“You’ll need something to train with, and it’s a perfectly fine blade,” he went on gruffly.  “I can’t stand to see it sitting uselessly in a closet any longer.”

“Thanks,” said Alex, and he meant it.  Even holding the weapon, which was indeed fine, gave him a sense of strength and protection that he now knew came from the power of the King himself. 

The shining metal seemed to glow faintly in a pattern as the first rays of sunlight spilled through the treetops, and Alex brought the blade closer to examine it.  Sure enough, writing etched on the flat sides of the sword sparkled in the warmth of the sun, and another kind of warmth altogether filled him as the boy read the familiar words on the blade:

“I have plans for you,” says the King.  “And they are for good, not disaster.  They are plans to give you hope, a brighter future than even you can imagine for yourself.  When you are ready to come home to me, call upon me--I will listen.  I will show you the way if you look for me earnestly, but you must look.  You will only find me when you seek me.

Come home to me, my child--”[1]

And for the first time, Alex heard his own heart respond.  I’m coming.

 

Their journey started uneventfully, sunlight streaming down on them in welcome bursts of warmth, their moods light with the confidence inspired by the clear note of a battle horn sounded by Faringer as a call to the King for safe passage.

Faringer’s own presence added a great deal of security to Alex, and not only because they were now three in number.  Even Jase seemed more at ease as they strolled along the path together, no longer alone in his mission to see Alex safely to the Citadel.  That was the center of the Realm, Jase had explained, where the High Prince ruled in the name of the King.

For the first time since entering this strange land, Alex felt genuine hope and excitement.  He was going to see the King!  His hand rested on the pommel of the sword hanging from his belt, and he thought of how skillfully Jase had brandished his own when faced with the shades on the beach.

Seized by an impulse, he yanked the sword out of its sheath, making the others jump back with a startled cry as they instinctively drew their own.

“Sorry!” said Alex, grinning sheepishly as he lowered his blade.

“Little warning next time, please?”  The older boy sheathed his sword, but Faringer kept his out.

“Actually, the boy’s right.  We shouldn’t waste any time in his training.”  He hitched up his pack and motioned for them to resume their pace, then continued.  “Alex, do you know anything about the King’s sword?”

“Just that I’ve seen Jase fight off the shades with it, although that one he had conjured out of thin air, along with the shield.”

“The sword is the word the King spoke to us long ago.”

“We have records of it in our world,” put in Jase.  “Books of it, in fact.  Can you guess what that might be?”

Alex felt himself cringing inwardly.  “The Bible.”

“You say it like it’s a dirty word,” smirked Faringer.

“It’s just…all the televangelists and all the religious superstition.  It’s like someone’s selling something.  Sorry, but I can’t stomach it.  It’s just so—”

“—out of context,” said Jase.  “Trust me, Alex, I felt the same way until someone showed me what it looked like to actually live the truth.”

“Which brings us back to our discussion,” said Faringer.  “The sword is the truth, Alex.  The King can only speak truth, because he is truth.  If anyone would wield the words of the King, he must live them.”

“And if someone lives them, they become part of him,” added Jase.

“Which would mean he could summon them at will,” Alex ventured, and the others nodded approvingly.

“Ten points for you,” said Jase with a grin.

“So, how about the shield?”

“The Shield of Faith,” said Faringer.  “Our first and greatest defense against the weapons of the Enemy.  Without it, we are easy targets for any stray arrow or glancing blow.”

“I can vouch for that,” said Alex, remembering the storm of flaming arrows he and Jase had narrowly escaped.

“That’s right, Faringer, the shield came to Alex when we were ambushed on the path.”

“Indeed?  Well, it comes to those who can take hold of it—but usually only the Chosen can brandish it at will.”  He gave a curious glance at Alex as he said, “Tell me what else you know about the King, how you came to be here in the Realm.”

So Alex explained recent events, from the time he met Jason at the lake, to the night he spent in the basement (though he minimized the incident with Mark to a yelling match that ended with him being sent to his room), to the ride in Billy’s truck, the fight at the lakeside, and finally, the whirlpool and waking up on the beach in the Realm.

Faringer listened intently, but even when Alex finished, the older man remained in thoughtful silence.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” said Jase as he reached into his pocket and handed something to Alex.  “I’ve been keeping it safe for you since you were out.”

Alex unfolded the bit of paper in his hand and smiled at the familiar words.  “I don’t think I need it anymore.  It’s been—how do you put it?—written on my heart.  See?”

He showed them all the words glowing faintly on his blade.

“Hey,” Jase said.  “Faringer, that wasn’t what was inscribed on the blade before, was it?”

“No, it was a different passage.  This is an excellent one to have ready, though, for unexpected attacks—” 

And without a warning, Faringer had whipped out his sword, knocking the blade out of Alex’s hands before the other could even open his mouth in protest.

“You’ll have to hold onto it better than that if you want to wield it in battle, though,” he said, motioning for Alex to retrieve the sword, which had fallen just outside of the trail.  “Remember to stay on the path.”

Shaking the blow’s sting out of his sword hand (and his pride), Alex slipped the parchment scrap into his pocket to free that hand, then stepped to the edge of the narrow trail and bent to reach the sword.  Even with his long arms, it was out of his reach.

“Alex…use the force,” Jase murmured in his best Obi-Wan impersonation.

Turning to smirk at Jase, he saw a glint of metal and just had time to roll out of the way as Faringer’s blade crashed down where he had just been.

“What are you trying to do, kill me?” he cried in alarm, jumping to his feet and backing up as Faringer advanced on him.

“The King’s blade cannot harm those whose hearts are fully committed to him—although it still smarts.”  He slashed the air in front of Alex, who just managed to hop back in time to miss the sharp point.  “I thought you wanted to train?”  He jabbed, and Alex twisted to one side.  “Stay on the path.”

“I am!”  But Alex glanced back at his feet just to make sure.  The blade whistled at his head, and he bent back awkwardly to avoid it, tripping over a stone on the path and tumbling onto his backside as gracefully as a limp noodle.

Before he could scramble to his feet, before he could even flinch, he felt Faringer’s sword point at his chest, pinning him to the ground.  “Try again?”

The point retracted and Alex let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  He took Faringer’s offered hand and got to his feet.

Jase tossed him the blade he’d left at the side of the path, but unprepared to catch a naked sword in flight, Alex let it fall to the ground at his feet before snatching it up.  Then he gripped it firmly in both hands, determined not to let Faringer knock it from his grasp again.

Instead of attacking, however, the warrior relaxed his stance and gave a good-natured laugh, sheathing his sword in one deft motion.  “Better, Alex.”  He adjusted his pack and nodded down the path.  “Perhaps we can make a warrior of you yet—but we’ve delayed as long as we dare.  We’ll spar again when we break for camp.”

Feeling slightly cheated, Alex sheathed his own blade and nodded his understanding, falling into step beside Jase as Faringer led them along the path.

“You did pretty good for your first time holding a sword,” said Jase, but Alex wasn’t consoled.  He’d been so easily disarmed, humiliated, and dismissed.  What if he wasn’t fit to serve in the King’s forces?

“Yeah…” he said halfheartedly.

“No, really.  I got pinned within the first two blows my first spar with Faringer.”  This made Alex feel slightly better.

“It doesn’t matter how we begin, boys,” said the older man ahead of them, “but how we finish.”  And between this comment and the encouragement from Jase, Alex felt hope again.  Perhaps he could grow to become an even better swordsman than Faringer—if he trained hard.

So Alex contented himself to gripping the sword in his hand as they walked, feeling its weight and power as an extension of his own arm.  He examined it, too, reading and rereading the inscription in the blade, polishing the stray smudges from the shining metal and treating it as tenderly as he would his mother’s harmonica.

His mother’s harmonica…

“Oh no…” Alex’s heart sank.  He felt in his pockets, but knew he wouldn’t find the little instrument there.

 “What is it?”

“My harmonica.”  Alex tried to mask the panic he felt.  “I don’t know where it is.”  The last time he remembered playing it was...at the campfire.  Yes, just before that flying raven had attacked him.

Jase snapped his fingers and reached into his pocket.  “I’m sorry, man, I completely forgot.”  He held out the emerald harmonica to him, which seemed to glow in the afternoon sun.  “I was keeping it safe for you.”

Alex took it gratefully, holding it against his heart as he breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’re really attached to that thing, aren’t you?”

“No,” Alex said defensively, then checked himself and added calmly, “It just means a lot to me…”

The older boy nodded in understanding and left Alex to his thoughts, stepping beside Faringer to discuss travel plans.

 Pushing aside the sudden rush of emotions he felt, Alex tucked the memento safely into the pocket of his new hide jacket and gripped Kael’s blade with two hands, refocusing his energies onto the inscription.

He almost dropped the sword.  The inscription had changed.  There, on both sides of the blade where the familiar passage once glowed, now stood these words:

“If anyone comes to me and does not, by comparison of his love for me, hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters—yes, even his own life—he cannot be my Chosen.”[2]

He called out to the others, who turned as Alex hastened to show them the sword.  “Look!” 

They read the inscription and exchanged a meaningful glance.  Then Jase said to Alex, “What do you think it means, Alex?”

“I don’t know…I mean…it’s a message from the King, right?  It’s written on his sword, so they must be his words.”  Alex felt a new kind of excitement rising in him.  Was the King sending a message to him, personally?  Was he trying to communicate something to Alex, something that would help him prepare to enter his service?

“And what do you think the King is telling you?”  Faringer said, as though following Alex’s train of thought.

The boy reread the words and considered for a moment.  “The King deserves wholehearted devotion and loyalty…and that’s what I was made for, I can feel it now.  I’ve been longing to serve him all my life, but never realized until I met him.”

The others remained silent, so Alex continued.

“So, unless someone comes to him with that kind of devotion and loyalty, that kind of love—where anything else would seem despised in comparison—well, then that person wouldn’t be worthy to be the King’s Chosen.”  Alex looked up from the inscription with brow raised.  “What exactly are the Chosen?  And how do I become one?”

“We’re glad you asked!” said Jase, grinning.

“First, in our world, do you know what a ‘disciple’ is?” said Faringer.

“Sure, it’s like someone that, umm…is really disciplined.”

Faringer smiled.  “Close.  A disciple is a learner, one who believes and ascribes completely to his master’s views and way of living.  Anyone can identify a disciple’s master based on the disciple’s speech and life.”

“Because it so closely resembles his master’s.”

“Exactly.  And the disciple aims to become like his master.”

“So, the Chosen get to become like the King…?” said Alex wonderingly.

“More,” replied Faringer, and he exchanged a meaningful glance with Jase.  “So much more…but yes.”

“Then how do I become one?”

“What do the King’s words tell you?”

Alex read the inscription again, and chuckled darkly.  “No problem there.”

“What?”  Jase said.

“Hating my father.”

Faringer’s eyes softened, but his voice held caution as he said, “The King does not command us to hate, Alex—he loves all of his people, even those who act as his enemies.  It is Dar’Ul who wants us to share in his hatred.”

The forest darkened suddenly, clouds gathering over the canopy of leaves to blot out the sun.  Alex felt heat shoot from the hilt of his sword as the blade gave a brilliant flash before dimming to a warm glow, lighting the path around them.  In an instant, Faringer and Jase whipped out glowing swords of their own, shields leaping into existence as they covered Alex on either side.

A horrible noise filled the air, like the clicking of thousands of insect mandibles, making Alex’s skin crawl and his hair stand on end. 

Faringer brought the battle horn to his lips and sounded a clear, pure note that again filled Alex with an unexplainable confidence.  The horrible noise faltered at the sound, but then, like a disturbed beehive, resurged louder and more furious.

“Stay on the path,” his guides shouted in unison, and the three braced themselves for attack as the noise grew louder and louder, until it was almost deafening.

Just when Alex thought his head would burst, the noise cut off abruptly, leaving an eerie stillness in its absence filled only by the sound of breathing and Alex’s heart pounding in his ears.  Then, out of the heavy silence, a terrified scream pierced the air.  His heart stopped.

It couldn’t be…

“Flora!” he yelled, and with the image of his little sister in danger spurring him on, he tore into the forest after the scream.

“Alex, no!” he heard Jase shout, but too late.  He was already plunging through the underbrush and into a thick knot of trees when the shades closed in on him.

Alex felt the warmth go out of every limb in his body but his arms, both hands clamped firmly around the sword hilt, which still emanated a strange heat.  He caught a glimpse of Flora’s red hair and wide eyes before she was completely swallowed by shadows, dark shapes rising out of the trees around him.  They eyed his sword cautiously as they advanced.

“Flora!” he cried again, hoping he could reach her and then somehow break free of the shades.  “Flora!”  He whipped around this way and that, looking for a way that wasn’t blocked by approaching shapes, but each turn with his sword only revealed another sinister pair of eyes glistening in the wan light.

His sister did not respond.

“Fool,” one of the shapes hissed, and the others chuckled menacingly.  “Put down your pretty toy and come quietly if you want to see your sister alive again.”

“What have you done with her?” Alex shouted in rage and fear, slashing recklessly at the shade that had spoken. 

It dodged aside nimbly, catching Alex’s arm in a grip of ice and twisting it back in a way that made him cry out in pain.  His hand went numb and the sword fell to the ground, its light fading as the shades closed in around him.

“Alex!” Jase’s voice came from somewhere outside the knot of trees, along with the sound of clashing swords and shields.

“I’m h—” Alex managed to get out before a monstrous hand clamped over his mouth.

The creature hissed soothingly into his ear as icy tendrils leeched through his face, wrapping around his mind and numbing his brain.  He felt his muscles slacken, his awareness dimming.  He moaned weakly as the grip on his arm jerked him into the air and pressed him against something cold and rough, which bore him deeper into the forest.

The last thing he remembered thinking before blackness overtook him was that he had failed.   He had failed Flora, had failed even to defend himself.  And now they were both lost.

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