Ch23: Responsibilities, Part Two

"Only the descent into the hell of self-knowledge can pave the way to godliness."

― Immanuel Kant, The Metaphysics of Morals

Lyra's chest heaved as sweat poured down her back. It soaked her clothes, the added weight an uncomfortable burden. "He's so fast..." The portly knight, her new teacher, stood across the sparring ground. His breaths were even and controlled, as if the last five hours of training had never occurred.

"Bite his neck!"

"Shut up Fen," Lyra snorted. "We can't even see him move." She shifted her weight, the spear in her hand a flare of blue fire that colored the world. "We only need to get the ribbon from his belt."

"If you bite his neck, the ribbon will be ours!" Fen snarled, her puppyish size forgotten in her lust for battle. "Let me take over, I'll let us taste his blood!"

"I hate to interrupt," Arthur said with a smile. "But this is a match and no place for conversation!"

The knight slid forward. He moved with his feet planted on the ground, as if the earth itself shifted beneath him. He was bare-handed, as he always was in these sessions. His rusted sword rested on his belt, and Lyra doubted it could be drawn at all.

She shifted her spear. It angled toward his head, a lance of blue light that could carve stone. The heavy-set knight didn't dodge this time. He reached out a hand to greet the attack, his smile still in place.

"We have him!"

Lyra ground her teeth. Together with Fen, she channeled all her energy into her spear. It erupted, a sapphire river that pressed toward Arthur's hand.

A wolf howled and Arthur grinned. He pinched his fist closed, the smile in his eyes the bane of Lyra's existence. It never left Arthur's face, not a twitch, as he plunged his fist into her attack.

The man and the spear connected. The ground around them cracked, and Lyra's wrists burned. Her attack spiraled and twisted against Arthur's bare skin, a vortex that shrank until nothing remained.

"A good blow!" Arthur twisted his fist against the tip of her spear, and Fen howled in pain. "But you still lack conviction!" He stretched out two fingers and pinned her weapon in place. "Your spear wants to taste by blood," Arthur yanked, and Lyra lost her grip. "But you're not interested!"

"I..." Lyra looked at her hands. Blood welled up on her palms, a friction burn that tore off a layer of skin and exposed her nerves to the air.

"You must fight with your heart, first and always!" Arthur rammed her spear into the ground. He left it buried as he stepped towards her, his hands already filled with healing light. "You must mean it, or it has no meaning." His mask of a smile softened as he treated her wounds. "You are strong, stronger than you can imagine."

"No, I'm..."

"Yes!" Arthur poked her in the nose. "You must learn to imagine it, so you can make it true!" He dusted her off and placed a hand on her head. "You are the first true apprentice of The King Of Knights! Your glory is inevitable!" Arthur pumped a fist into the air and a golden light flashed.

"Hey!" Brull's sullen voice carried weakly from across the room. "What about me?" The cat-kin stood, balanced on a tall, wooden pole. He held a huge pack on his back, filled with heavy rocks. A long stone bar rested in his arms and sweat drench his fur into ragged lines.

"Yes, yes..." Arthur waved a hand in Brull's direction. "You'll make a fine squire for Lyra here, an honor to be sure!"

"What?" Brull twitched and his heavy load shifted. "Hey... help!" The rocks on his back tumbled as they dragged him to one side. The stone bar went the other direction and Brull was pinned to the pillar below.

"Don't worry Brull, you'll get it!" Lyra waved as she tugged on her trapped spear. "Master Arthur is a great teacher!"

***************************************************

Brull collapsed into his bed. Exhaustion loomed over him like a predator, ready to claim him at any time. He gave a reluctant snort, but peeled away from his mattress and ditched his filthy clothes. "I need a bath..." He dragged his broken carcass into the attached bath, courtesy of Aangor's strange guild.

The tiles were ocean green and extended halfway up the sweeping white walls. Brull fuddled with the tap until water steamed into the carriage-sized tub. His body oozed over the porcelain edge and into the beginning of his bath.

"Ahhhh..."

Brull floated, face down in the water as it rose. The last few days were rough. Every muscle screamed at him, twisted in knots around his bones like tangled cords. The heated water helped... sort of. He spun around and faced the gilded ceiling, the air cool against his face. It surged into his lungs, a welcome chill.

"Arthur is a harsh taskmaster..." Brull blew a series of bubbles in the water. "He won't even take me on as an apprentice." He rubbed his face, the sand and grit nothing before the clear water. If he wanted to impress the knight, Brull would have to get much stronger. Stronger than Lyra, or at least enough to keep up with her.

Mara's already gone beyond me, Brull sighed as he submerged his head. Ven is so far out of reach that I can't see his coattails, and Lyra... A vision of a red-eyed wolf flashed before his eyes. He surfaced with a gasp, a twinge of fear in his heart.

"Fenrir..." Brull muttered as his heart quickened. The legendary wolf, Lyra's counterpart and eternal companion. The thought of her gave rise to a chill that the bath couldn't cure, a frigid hand that gripped his heart. "She still looks at me like food..." Brull shuddered, his hand on his neck. The breath of death had never left him, the touch of her teeth still tingled above the vein in his throat.

Brull shook himself and took a plunge. The water swallowed his vision and cleared his mind. If Fenrir was a threat, it was better to learn it through him. The wolf's lore was filled with stories of devoured cities and empires. If he was eaten, Arthur would probably lock Lyra up to keep the people safe. At least she would survive.

Brull let himself settle on the tub's bottom. The world above rippled and twisted, separated away by an unsteady mirror. He closed his eyes and set aside his worries as he let the bath do its work.

"I need a nap..."