Chapter 14: Combat Instruction

Charon and the others mechanically walked to the weapon racks, full of terror at the beating they were about to receive. Looking up and down the options, Charon realized he had no idea which one he wanted. The closest thing to a weapon he had practiced with was a knife, and that was just to entertain himself while cutting meat! ’What would I want to use during a battle?’ A sword was the obvious choice, but it didn’t call to him. A ranged option might be nice, but there were no blasters or guns to choose from. Only bows and crossbows, both of which seemed too skillful for Charon. Scanning the racks, he took a step to the left and realized it was much more difficult than it should’ve been. His lips turned downward as he tried to take another, his robes slowing him mid-step. ’Why are my clothes fighting me?’ Looking at the chains, he remembered that it wasn’t just an article of clothing, but also the Warden of the Acheron. Testing it with a step to the right, he grinned as he was freely able to move in that direction. Walking down the row, his steps grew more forceful until he faced a similar amount of opposition. Studying the weapons right there, he recognized a series of scythes. Some were large, others small, but their telltale feature of a curved blade attached to a pole remained the same. ’It seems the Warden is saying this is the weapon I should be using.’ Selecting a medium-sized scythe, he pulled it from the wall and stood it next to himself. The top of the blade reached his chin, and curved out two feet from the pole. It was heavy, but not unwieldy, allowing him to heft and swing it, albeit with the drawback of being unable to stop his blows mid-strike. ’It’s strange. I’ve never used one before, and yet it feels right in my hands.’ Stepping away with his weapon of choice, he saw Emerius beckoning him over. He was casually holding two blunted short swords, occasionally spinning one with his hand. "A scythe? Unusual decision, but it makes sense your element would draw you towards it." Shrugging, Charon made sure to keep his distance from Emerius’s revolving blades and responded. "The weapon called me to it, I don’t know how to explain it." His roommate nodded knowingly. "Elements are more impactful than you would think. They are attached to your soul, and in some ways know you better than even you do. They influence and shape our lives, even down to choosing our eternal companions in battle. My father says it’s the gods pushing us towards our destiny." Although Emerius had treated Charon like a servant in some ways, he couldn’t help but smile at all the offered insights. At every opportunity, he had not hesitated to reveal things that could’ve taken Charon hours of study and research to figure out. ’He is a little insufferable and self-serving, but he is helping me. Maybe Emerius won’t be such a rotten roommate.’ As the other students gathered their tools, the professor marched up and down the growing line, his mouth held in a thin line. His two staffs were held behind his back, crossing into an "X". Every time someone stood out of line, either a few inches forward or backward, one of the staffs would lash and hit their leg, forcing them into position. The moment the final student joined their formation, the professor halted, doing a complete ninety-degree turn to face them. His voice boomed across the hall, leaving no room for other sounds. "I am Professor Thalt. Memorize it as I shall not repeat myself. This goes for all instructions from now until the day you are lucky enough to be outside my control. As fate would have it, that is many months away, so prepare yourselves to bleed, break, and be rebuilt every class period until I am satisfied." His arms snapped forward, slamming the butts of his staffs on the ground and causing a massive ringing noise. Charon gritted his teeth and turned away from it, doing his best not to overreact and bring any unwanted attention. "I am never satisfied! You will all end this class the same way it began: failures. Kill any dumb ideas that make you think otherwise now. Grand notions will result in you getting beaten until your memories consist of my face and my face alone." Professor Thalt repeated his previous action, the ringing causing the students to cringe away once more. "Am I clear?" The entire class spoke at once, their professor’s military precision already being drilled into them. "Yes, Professor Thalt!" With a single nod, the man took a few steps back, leaving a large gap between himself and the line. "Today I will be acquainting myself with how disappointing you are, as well as introducing you to the only friend you will gain here: pain." His eyes traced up and down the row of shivering students like a lion stalking its prey. "Begin!" The first student in line, a young-looking girl, took a moment to realize she would be starting them off. With shaky movements, she walked forward with a longsword clutched tightly against her robes. Once she was a few feet away from Professor Thalt, she glanced back at the rest of them, uncertainty in her eyes. "What do you want me to..." She never finished her sentence, her words cut short as a metal shaft collided with her side. She crumpled, the longsword falling to the ground with a clatter. "In war, your enemy will not give you time to ask questions! You will find no more mercy from me than you would from an Elf Warleader!" Ignoring the girl squirming on the ground, the man took a few steps to the side, creating more open space. "Next!" The second student, a large boy with a mace, seemed to have paid more attention to the previous class than the girl had. He rushed forward with his weapon held high, but his flowing black robes caught around his legs, causing him to trip and fall. A single whack to the back of his head ended the fight. The next attempts went similarly. Some students were braver than others, charging to meet the professor with abandon. Others were petrified, barely able to do more than make a token effort to swing their weapon before being dispatched. Blood began to cover different sections of the hall, Professor Thalt ignoring it and either repositioning himself or ordering the remaining line of students to shift to another area. With every sickening thwack and crunch, Charon felt more and more dread. ’It’s like he doesn’t view us as people, just animals to beat into submission.’ As his own beating drew closer, he saw Emerius step forward, his fight the last one before Charon’s. Unlike most students, he was calm, his swords confidently held, and his gait measured. He took a single step before launching himself forward at a blinding speed, the professor’s eyes widening ever so slightly before he lashed out with his staffs to intercept. In a move that surprised everyone watching, Emerius leapt upwards, flipping over the professor and forcing him to lose his center of gravity to shift and face his opponent. Their weapons clashed violently, Emerius’s blades moving as fast as lightning, exceeding the pace of the professors’ whirling staffs. Unlike the other battles, their engagement swept across the room like a storm. Both Emerius and Professor Thalt were forced back at different points, their footwork dancing across the plain steel of the room’s floor. As time went on, both styles were clear to see. Professor Thalt mixed power and precision, moving with quick and heavy strikes that could end the fight in a single blow. Every spin of his staff was done with purpose, increasing the tension and force to deliver focused attacks. Emerius, by comparison, was a dervish, running, jumping, and flipping over his opponent to confuse them as he lashed out with blitzing blows. His swords were light, allowing him to use them to lash out at an opening while also drawing them back to deflect any unexpected assaults. To Charon’s eyes, it was the perfect clash of power and speed, with neither side winning. Until a flaw was found. It was hard to notice at first, but as the seconds dragged on, he knew that the professor would win. ’Emerius is slowing down; he doesn’t have the stamina to win a protracted battle.’ Just as he guessed, Emerius’s footwork grew sluggish, causing him to lazily deflect a strike. It put him off balance for only a moment, but that was all the professor needed to win. The metal pole lashed out, breaching Emerius’s defenses and colliding with his chest. With a groan, the teenager fell to the ground, somehow managing to keep hold of his blades all the while. His eyes looked up defiantly at Professor Thalt, unwilling to yield even when the result was obvious. With a small grin, the middle-aged man just lowered his staffs, raising one only to point back at the line of students. "You’ve lost. Get back there." A second of tense silence followed, ending only when Emerius gave a short nod and stood up, walking back to join the row with a slight stagger.