Legacy of the Defender (The Defender Series Book 1) (6 page)

“He is here.  He approaches,” the voices spoke in unison from all around the campsite.  I took seconds to process the message, and, upon hearing them, I jumped up and grabbed a staff sitting next to the fire.  Whoever or whatever he or it was, there was going to be a fight.  In my mind, not just an ordinary fight, but the fight of all fights.  I stood ready.  Whatever bothered us would get more than it bargained for. 

The energy flowing about the campsite put me on edge.  I knew better than to allow this to affect me but hearing the warning, made me wonder if there was cause for alarm.  Hastily glancing around the campsite, I noticed neither Malnuras nor the mystery creature or person was in sight.  My mind quieted for a second.  Knowing that someone soon would come, and it would be my master, was comforting.  If my master was approaching, would the ground be in a panic?

The light coming from the sun dimmed slightly for a second, and I soon realized a shadow was near.  At first, it did not look like a man at all, but an apparition.  It coalesced right in front of my eyes, as if out of thin air.  I stared for many moments as the image unfolded itself and took form.  Seconds to contemplate my actions were not enough.  I had lost focus on my problem and concentrated more on whom or what was appearing.  Was it a foe or something worse?  I gave up on logic and chose to swing my staff to connect with this shadowy stranger when a gauntleted hand caught my staff with ease.  It felt heavy in my hands or my mind succumbed to my fears, and then something tore the staff away from me.  I found it upside my head knocking me over from a well-placed strike that, surprisingly, did not hurt. 

I rolled and came to my feet in a defensive stance ready to face whatever kind of test this was.  It was unlike my teacher to downplay a master showing up in this fashion, but my discounting it would be a big mistake.  The outline of a very large humanoid, back lit by the sun, stood before me, holding my staff.  I squared off and took my strongest stance, waiting to size up my foe.  A small stalemate seemed to be unfolding in my head as I began running through scenarios in my mind.  The first one involved me grabbing rocks from the fire pit to hurl at my opponent.  I was about to take action when a deep, penetrating voice sounded.

“Grabbing the rock will improve your chances of survival by about a fraction.  Discovering if your visitor is indeed friend or foe increases your chance to half.  Choose,” he said and the staff started to spin in a most impressive display.  It then struck downward, reverberating against the nearest rock and showering the area with sparks.  I wanted to urinate but maintained control of my bladder and my composure.  The figure strode forward out of the sun’s blinding rays and stood in the twilight.  I still could not see who it was.

“Are you friend or foe?”  I asked.

“Lucky for you, child, I am neither.  I am your master.”  With blinding speed, he crossed the fifteen or so feet and swept my front leg with ease before my muscles even twitched in response.  My body found out how soft the grass was and it still knocked the wind out of me.  “Yes, Master.” 

“Lesson number one, take all your opponent’s advantages away.  I caught you with the oldest of tricks and took away your most important senses: your sight and your ability to rationalize,” he said, watching to make sure I was listening.

“How is rationalizing one of the senses?”  I asked.  His hand was suddenly locked on my throat and lifting me high in the air.

“You were unable to make a proper decision so you could not think.  If you cannot think then you cannot perceive.  If you cannot perceive then your actions will most likely be foolhardy.”  He dropped me, and I landed hard, buckling my knees.  I half expected him to continue dangling me by my throat for my accidental insolence.  Instead, I found myself standing on my own accord looking up and into the eyes of the largest man I had ever seen in my life.

“I am Mathias.  You can call me Master until I tell you otherwise.”

“Yes Master.”

“Have you learned your first lesson?” he asked.

“Yes, Master.”

“Good, now prove it,” he said.  “Catch me some game without using a weapon.”

I caught myself looking at him as if he was crazy because hunting was not one of my skills.  I managed to nod then turned the nod into a bow rather quickly.  Far too many Kung Fu movies ended badly when a student was not proper to his teacher.  The items near my sleeping mat seemed of little use suddenly, so grabbing my water skin and leaving camp was my only recourse.

"Before you leave, your old life is dead to you.  Dieter is dead...You need to discover your real name.  It will come to you when you least expect it."

I left confused.  My old life was over, that was a given but my name too.  His audacity only outweighed that he could probably kill me with a thought...But telling me to change my name?  I had no response to that.  I felt camp post haste.

As I hunted, my new teacher and his intensity became as much of my focus as my task.  I was relieved he had given me a free pass without knocking me senseless.  Perhaps my initial score would have been better in his eyes had my reaction been to attack without hesitation.  Something told me that would have been worse. 

My path took me away from camp.  I tried to figure out how to accomplish catching game without a weapon.  Soon, a small deer
drinking from a pond was in my path.  While considering the deer, a growl sounded behind me.

I froze.

Not knowing what to do, I slowly turned to see what was there.  A large saber toothed mountain lion stood on a rock.  I was too preoccupied to notice he was in a striking stance.  It had given me a warning that was barely audible but loud enough for me to hear.  I quickly looked down and started backing away slowly.  The deer continued to eat and drink, unaware of its surrounding.  Several slow steps carried me fifteen feet when the energy in the air changed and the saber sprung.  There followed a squeal when its lethal jaws locked on the unsuspecting deer
.
  My second lesson of the day had just unfolded before me. 

This was going to be a difficult task.  Today granted me two chances.  Wasting either one of them was not my intent.  I backed up even farther giving the large cat due privacy while it ate.  I would have to find my own prey and that meant tracking it.  With a sigh, I sat down on a rock and cleared my mind. 

Today was going to be a long day.

V

Training

My lessons were brutal. 

Each one connected logically to the next, giving me lethal skills.  The cost was great but the reward was greater.  I had mastered movement and weapon skill like a natural.  Master showed me techniques that mortal men did not do, for they did not possess the physical prowess.  With one swing of the blade, I could cleave a small daemon easily.  Medium sized daemons took a bit more power, but I used their mass against them.

I was dangerous.

The medium sized, flying daemon approached.  It was the biggest I had faced in combat so far.  It was as tall as a man was.  The smell of sulfur emanated from it, and its hot breath washed over me on its first pass.  Its breath would melt the flesh of a mortal man.  There was a chemical reaction with human flesh.  In my first encounter with these types, I had not known about the effects of the breath.  Master never told me.  In my ignorance, I allowed its saliva to saturate my face.  The skin hardened and burst as the muscles underneath seized up and expanded.  My face had frozen in a grimace of death with my eyelids wide open.  Bits of my flesh flapped in the wind as I danced around slashing.  Talk about freezer burn.  I could not imagine a more terrible way to die.

Its first pass had been a clash of steel on claw.  Now it came around for a second pass.  I hated fighting the fliers.  There were too many angles to defend, and I had not mastered defending all the quarters.  It is one thing to fight fast ground creatures, but another thing to take on speedy fliers.  With runners, there were fewer attack lines.  Fliers could come from anywhere.  I had to look at the tactical advantage that fliers had on me.  My speed was fast on the ground, but in the air, they were superior.  Gravity intensified most diving attacks.  Objects speeding toward the ground already had momentum.  Add the benefit of streamlined beating wings and you have one fast bastard.  

Smaller fliers were the worst.  Their agility forced me to learn to predict movements.  When close enough to perceive the smallest course adjustment in their bodies or the slightest rotation in the tip of their wings, I could predict movement.  This gave me a near-telepathic skill at times.

My heart pounded.  It was the size of an average human male, with huge wings, teeth, nasty breath, and a whole lot of attitude and hatred in it.  They came in hordes, like aerial piranha, only much faster and with no limit to their movements.  I admired their innate ability to fly in such large number with close proximity to each other.  When the flying horde approached, they blocked out the sun.

For my training, I had only faced a handful at a time.  The one circling me now was a tougher test.

Hundreds of days before, I had learned to focus my inner strength and release it in a burst that propelled me several meters into the air.  A dual set of runes painfully appeared on either hip.  Although I could not see them, unless looking at my reflection, I could feel the welts.  The daemons had a hard time escaping my blades when they got too close, even though I could not fly.  The key was to time my strikes to avoid their teeth and claws as they passed.  My favorite tactic was to cleave their wings and watch them furrow into the ground.

It was a standard tactic for them, seen many times before.  The daemons would dive straight at me in a lance-like formation.  If I moved one way or the other, one of them would make contact.  The last thing they would expect was for me to stand my ground and strike from the middle.  While it gave them more hitting power, it also offered them less maneuverability. 

It circled again, diving at me…faster this time.

My inferior training blades flashed out wide.  It cried out as my metal passed through its leathery hide, sinewy flesh, and ribs…then clean out the other side.  Just like the pressure you feel when pushing your finger into an orange that still has its peel, tough and hard at first, but then the tension releases as the skin breaks, allowing access to the softer inside.  The ribs were never an issue.  That sensation always gave me satisfaction.  I pulled my weapons clear of the carcass before it hit the ground, and with a small flick of my wrists flung any clinging fluids to my sides.  Last one for that group.  You would think they would learn that flying faster meant dying faster.  That would have been difficult with only one blade.  I was thankful for finally receiving a second blade some time ago.  I loved dual wielding.

With a satisfied grin, I looked to my master, Mathias.

Mathias trained me in every weapon known to man…even a few never seen before in movies or books.  Everything from bludgeoning weapons to large two-handed swords; we covered everything.  The training was brutal.  My master had taught me so much in such a small measure of time.  As I looked at him each day, my desire to be just like him increased.  I quickly became a weapons master because I learned faster than his previous students had.  It was hard to avoid being prideful, but my view was very humble and I was excited for what was to come.

Mathias was a towering figure for what I thought to be a man.  He had chiseled features like a Grecian statue, only even more defined.  His body bulged with muscles for which they did not have names.  A firm, square, unbreakable jaw.  Flaming red hair adorned his shoulders.  It was straight but seemed to get brighter towards the tips.  When not pulled back, his hair looked alive, as if it could move on its own.  I could have sworn it deflected my blows a few times when luck was with me.  His eyes freaked me out at first; they had no pupils so you could never tell where he was looking.  It was a bit unnerving for a while.  He had no facial hair either.  When I started to ask, he just smiled and hit me.

I had never seen legs as powerful as his, even in what little bodybuilder magazines I had read or pro wrestling seen on television.  His ability to leap vertically was superior.  On his descent, he drifted slowly as if he commanded the elements to carry him.  His power of control was amazing for I had seen him land so hard that he cracked the ground on other occasions. 

"Will I ever be built like you?" 

He smiled and hit me. 

He reminded me of my teacher...only Mathias spoke even less.

My training was more than just weapons.  I learned that inner peace and calm was the key to surviving the most horrific events.  Mastering my fear would have to come later.  He taught me to control pain and to focus my inner strengths when battling fatigue.  Fighting when you have reached total exhaustion is a monumental feat.  Overcoming such exhaustion with the right frame of mind, that was the key.  Although my skills had begun to blossom, they were nowhere near what they needed to be.

Seeing this man in action was a thing of grace and beauty.  I had always heard that most muscle bound fighters had no finesse.  His movements were like the flow of water, breaking upon his enemies with thundering force.  There was no wasted movement, as each strike set up the next one.  He gaited back and forth so fluidly.  I aspired to move as he did and took inspiration every time we sparred.  Each lesson filled my heart as well as my mind.  Multiple aspects flooded my mind daily.  It was up to me to apply the knowledge.

We relocated to a different part of the land, with light all the time.  The sun never set.  I lost track of the hours and had to be told at times when to sleep and, sometimes, when to eat.  I focused so much that there were days I did not sleep.  The conditioning was fierce, but I could not get enough.  Each passing day was more grueling than before and more challenging, but my spirit cried out for more.  When sleep finally found me, my hands rested on my blades.  They became part of me.  In this realm, with swords in hand, I felt more at home than I ever had on Earth.  Through all of this, it never occurred to me to ask him about armor, and he never brought it up. 

More time passed.  Eventually, my body developed its own clock.  Master began to drill me verbally.  His words inspired me to forget about tomorrow, especially when strength training started.

"There is here and now and nothing else matters," Mathias drilled into me.

"Yes Master," I said while holding a large bolder over my head.

"Focus all your thoughts, energies, and skills on the task at hand," said Mathias.

"Yes Master.”  The words bubbled forth with my head barely above water.  How I managed to tread water and hold that damn bolder over my head was beyond me.  "How does this have this have anything to do with fighting daemons?"

The words had barley left my mouth when he smiled and hit me. 

I sank.

*     *     *

Every time my swords were in my hands, excitement filled me.  Swinging those blades brought a smile on my face.  Joy knew no boundaries, for my path was set before me.  My mission was clear.  My purpose established.  Put daemons in front of me and they will die.  That was all that mattered.

By this time, my physical stature had grown.  I was still about and inch shorter than Mathias, who stood at seven foot six.  He could still overpower me, but my speed surpassed his.  The lessons still hurt, but with each day my skills improved.  I learned more from live instruction than from watching the runes in the fire.  My mind was a sponge.  Lessons at the fire pit were painless compared to live instruction, unless I fell in.  The real advantage of the runes was rewinding and re-watching from different angles.  Also,
they
did not hit back. 

With constant light, it was hard to track how long we stayed in this night less location.  It felt as if years were passing.  Even though I was present mentally every day of training, the relevance of how long we were gone did not become apparent.  So I asked.

“Master, how long have we been here?  I feel like I am significantly older.  How many years have we been here?  I think I was with Teacher for over a year or more before you arrived.”

He made a playful motion of looking at the sun that never moved.  He looked at me and how tall I was next to him, as if that mattered.  There was a long pause before he spoke.  “Time passes differently here than on earth.  If an educated guess could be accurate, it would be around ten years.”

“Oh.  How many years have passed on earth?”

“You ask too many questions, Dieter.  Return to your studies.”

Later that day, I found something.  My interest in swords drifted to the Eastern empires of ancient Earth.  Because I was adept at manipulating the runes, I began to study something I always loved.  It felt like sacrilege to watch and analyze the greatest Samurai of all time, Miyamoto Musashi.  He was so skilled that he used wooden swords to best his opponents.  I loved to watch how he beat his foe into submission with one or two strikes.

Could I beat him?

My attention was so engrossed I failed to notice my master standing there.  He was not barking orders.  I jumped up and bowed.

“Dieter, I have something for you before you return to Malnuras to continue your training.”  He held up something very long wrapped in cloth.

“Master?”  I said, hesitating.

"Has your true name come to you yet?"

"My true name?  How will I know?"

“Yes, your true name.  It will be obvious."

"What will be obvious?"

"Just open the package and stop asking questions,” he smiled.

I stepped up and took the item from him.  A purple material covered the item that was both soft and firm.  A silver cord ran along the lines of a square cloth bag.  The end had a drawstring fastened with a shield-shaped brooch of bluish silver with two swords crossed behind it.  Carefully unfastening the drawstring, I slid it back, revealing a sturdy box that had metal bindings at the corners.  Symbols like those in the fire decorated a wooden box.  Its weight was less than expected.

The covering slid gently off the ornate box.  Its length was easily five feet.  Metal clasps fastened it at six locations.  Each one released as soon as my hand touched it.  The lid opened silently and light shone out across me, its luminance growing brighter and brighter.  As the opening increased, the familiar shape of two blades greeted me.  Two magnificent blades sat nestled in the box.  They were Celestial swords, for the angels used them exclusively.  The design was a cross between a scimitar and an oriental blade, only deadlier and faster.  I saw them in use every day when fighting my master.

My hands slightly shook as each blade emerged from its encasement.  When I held them in my hands, they felt as though they belonged there.  Their weight was astonishingly light.  They felt like more than an extension of my body; they were my body.  My eyes must have been wide with wonder as my gaze fell to Mathias.  He simply nodded and smiled subtly for the first time.  A hint of pride came from him though he tried to hide it.  I guess a master is not supposed to show emotion to his student. 

The enchantments tingled in my hands as my own energy began to reach out to the blades.  My life force started to enter each blade while the weapons own power extended into me like a key in a lock.  A sense of completion washed over me, as warm as the sun’s rays caressing my skin, but on the inside.  I was smiling uncontrollably.

They were so light.  I swung them around and could feel the very air cut before the blades, creating tones which sang to me in harmony with each other.  There were almost words coming from each of them, as each movement was different from the last.  The sound was incredible.  This musical sensation continued to swirl inside of me and touched the root of my emotions.