Orphan Farm Boy of Destiny - episode five

A story in the Ravenglass Universe.

Mark walked into the training room, his eyes scanning the racks of weapons. He licked his lips and approached the rack.

 Gideon raised a hand, blocking Mark’s path. “Not yet.” He smiled and raised his chin. “There are many things you must learn before you can wield a weapon.”

“But—”

“But nothing, Mark. This is how it must be. Good soil is essential if something is to grow, is that not true?”

A pang of sorrow blossomed in Mark’s chest. What was he doing in this place, with these men? What had happened to his father’s body? He shook away the thought and forced a nod.

“I can see you’re disappointed, Mark.” Gideon glided by the racks and ran a finger along the weapons. “But you will thank me in time.” He stopped and inclined his head. “Tell me, Mark. What martial training have you had so far?”

Mark shook his head. “I can strip a turnip.”

Gideon threw his head back and laughed. “Martial training, Mark. Fencing, wrestling.”

“Nothing like that.”

Gideon clapped his hands together. “Excellent. You are a blank slate, a fresh lump of clay. You can be moulded and shaped and you won’t need to unlearn any bad habits.”

Mark looked at his feet. “I stopped picking my nose years ago.”

Gideon laughed again. “Today, I want to teach you about the most important aspect of all fighting.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He held Mark’s gaze. “Can you guess what that is?”

“Erm…” Mark glanced at the weapons. “Being strong?”

  Gideon smiled. “No.”

“Being fast?”

“No.”

Mark frowned. “Being strong and fast at the same time?”

“They are both important, but no.”

“Oh.” Mark considered the question for several heartbeats before shrugging. “I don’t know.”

“The answer is breathing, Mark. For your first lesson, I will teach you how to breathe.”

A deep line set on Mark’s brow. “I already know how to breathe.”

“Do you?”

Mark made a show of inhaling and exhaling. “See?”

“Wrong.”

“But—”

Gideon silenced Mark with a cocked eyebrow. “Proper breathing is the foundation of good fighting. In fact, it is a crucial part of any physical activity.”

“Like running the steps?”

“Indeed. Mastery over your breaths will give you the edge in any combat situation. Everything flows from the breath.”

“What, even using a sword?”

Gideon nodded. “Especially when using a sword.” He moved closer to Mark and adjusted his posture. “Now, I want you to breathe in deeply through your nose.”

Mark inhaled and his chest expanded.

“Wrong.”

“I did what you said.”

“Allow your stomach to expand, not your ribs.”

“I never really thought about how I breathe before.”

Gideon sighed. “I can tell. Now, let’s begin again. Inhale through your nose, allow your stomach to expand. Like that. That’s good. Now exhale through your mouth.”

Mark puffed the breath out and inhaled again.

“Wrong.” Gideon raised a finger. “Remember, breathe in through your nose. Out through your mouth.”

“But it’s weird.”

“It’s efficient and you must continue.” He began to pace in front of Mark. “It is important that you listen to my instructions and follow them closely.”

Mark glared at Gideon.

“What is it, Mark? You look poised to say something.”

“I just…I don’t know what I’m doing here. Just a week ago I was getting ready for the harvest, and now I’m here.”

“Because you are the chosen one, Mark.”

“What if I don’t want to be the chosen one?”

“That is not your choice to make. The chosen is chosen.”

“So, what? You get to choose?”

“No, Mark. Fate chose you and if you think you are the only one who has had their life put on a path you did not want, look around you.”

Mark stared down at his hands. “I just miss my home…my dad.”

“I know.” Gideon placed a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “But it’s not just about you.”

“I know…the Dark Lord.”

“It’s not just that. I have dedicated my life to finding you and becoming your mentor.” He gestured vaguely around him. “Then there’s this place, Derengard, and the people who work here…it is all for you.”

“I haven’t seen anyone else who works here.”

“And you probably won’t. But the buildings need maintaining and cleaning, our clothes laundering and our meals preparing. There is a lot that goes into making sure the chosen one is ready to face the Dark Lord.”

Mark met Gideon’s eyes. “I didn’t know.”

“And it’s not for you to concern yourself with. You must have a singular focus and you must follow my teachings if you are going to prevent the age of darkness.”

“I understand.”

“Good.” Gideon took a step back and looked Mark up and down. “Let’s try the breaths again, and this time keep your shoulders relaxed. And exhale fully. Get rid of all the stale air in your lungs.”

Mark followed Gideon’s instructions, continuing the breathing exercises for the next few hours.

Gideon patted Mark on the back. “You’re doing very well.”

Mark glanced over to the weapons. “Am I ready to start learning to sword fight?”

“You are learning to sword fight, Mark. But not yet. You’re nowhere near ready.”

“But you said my breathing was good.”

“Compared to what it was. But look.” He pointed at Mark’s expanding chest. “You have reverted to your old way of breathing.”

“But that new way feels wrong.”

“It needs to be how you breathe all the time. When you don’t have to think about it, that’s when you know you are ready.”

“Oh.”

Gideon clapped a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Don’t look so glum. It takes time and practice, but I have no doubt that you’ll get there.”

“But I really want to try the sword.”

“I know. But there is another important lesson here.”

“What kind of lesson?”

“Of learning patience, Mark. We don’t know when the Dark Lord will rise, but we know the time is upon us.”

“I see.”

“There is more to fighting than swinging a sword.  It’s also about strategy, tactics, and most importantly, discipline.”

“I understand.”

Gideon inclined his head. “Do you?”

Mark frowned. “Erm…I think so.”

“What do you think I mean when I speak of discipline?”

Mark shifted his weight and offered a slight shrug. “I don’t know. Like, when you learn to do as your told.”

Gideon shook his head. “No, Mark. It is about making sure the small things are taken care of so you can focus on the big things.”

“Like how you store seeds?”

Gideon pushed out his bottom lip and stroked his beard. “I suppose. It’s about taking care of your equipment, your body, and your mind.”

“What does that have to do with wielding a sword?”

“You can’t fight if your sword is dull or if you’re too weak to wield it properly. How can you concentrate on a fight if your mind is elsewhere?”

“I see.”

“Good. Now, let’s start again with the breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth…and relax those shoulders.”

Mark focused on his breaths and cleared his mind, the rhythm slow and effortless.

 “That’s it, Mark. You’re breathing like a swordsman now.”

 “Thank you.”

“I think tomorrow we can move onto the next step.”

Mark glanced over to the rack and smiled.

 “Tomorrow, I will teach you how to stand.”

Mark’s smile dropped.

“Remember, what I said about patience.”

“Sorry. I just…I really want to train.”

“You are training, Mark. Without the proper breathing, you will never be a competent swordsman. And without the proper stance…well, you may as well not even try.”

Mark nodded. “But I want to do this.”

“With the progress you’ve made today, you’ll be ready in no time.”

“Do you think so?”

“I know so. But it requires you to commit. You need to stop questioning my methods.” He opened his palms. “You need to trust me, Mark.”

“I will…I do.”

Over the following months, Mark woke up at dawn each day to tackle his morning run and continue his training with Gideon and Derengard, working on his breathing, stance, and footwork.

At first, he struggled to keep up with the drills and the constant corrections, but as each day passed he felt his skills improving and his body growing stronger.

As autumn made way for winter, Mark found he could run the mountain steps without feeling as winded as before.

The breathing technique Gideon had taught him became second nature and Mark no longer had to think about his stance or his footwork.

When the shortest day of the year arrived, Mark met Gideon and Derengard in the training room.    

Gideon gestured to the rack. “Do you feel like you are ready to use a sword?”

Mark tried to suppress the excitement from his voice and he dipped his head to hide his smile. “If you think I’m ready, then I trust I’m ready.”

Gideon patted the rack and turned to Derengard. “What do you think? Do you think he’s ready?”

“He’s ready.”

Gideon stepped to Mark’s side. “Reach for the sword with your dominant hand.”

Mark looked up at Gideon and Derengard and stepped over to the rack. He gripped the sword’s handle and drew it from the rack. It was heavier than he expected. 

“Extend your forefinger. Point it to the blade.” Gideon studied Mark’s hand. “Good. Now move your hand further down the grip, nearer the pommel.”

Mark adjusted his hand and wrapped his fingers around the handle.

“Very good, Mark. Now make the grip secure by holding your forefinger with your thumb.”

“I don’t understand.”

Derengard moved next to Mark with a sword in his hand and demonstrated the grip. “Like this.”

Mark mirrored the position.

“Remember to use a relaxed grip,” Gideon said. “Make it firm, but not overly tight.”

“Why can’t I just hold it tight?” Mark asked.

Derengard sniffed. “Your strength will falter quicker. It should be an extension of your arm, not something you wrestle with.”

Mark nodded and tried to maintain a relaxed grip.

“Better,” Gideon said. “Depending on the situation and technique being used, the grip may need to be adjusted.”

Mark glanced down at his hand. “What do you mean?”

“A looser grip will give you speed and fluidity. A stronger one will give you power.”

“So, which one’s best?”

Gideon smiled. “Neither is better or worse. It depends on the situation.”

“Right.”

Remember, your grip is the key to controlling the sword and executing precise strikes. Keep practicing.”

Mark frowned. “Erm, practicing what?”

“Your grip, Mark.”

“I take it we’re not learning any strikes today.”

Gideon shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Because of foundations.”

“Exactly.” He patted Mark’s shoulder and smiled at Derengard. “I think he’s finally getting it.”

Derengard nodded. “I think you’re right.”

After several days of learning to hold and move with the sword, Mark arrived at the training room to find Gideon and Derengard sparring with swords.

Steel clashed with steel as the pair cut and slashed in a blur of movement.

Gideon advanced on Derengard, his sword whistling through the air.

Derengard parried each blow with ease before launching a counter-attack of his own.

The pair moved in a circular dance, their swords flashing in the dim light.

Derengard lunged forward, his sword aimed straight at Gideon's chest.

Gideon spun to the side, narrowly avoiding the strike. His offhand shot up, disarming Derengard, the younger man’s sword clattering out of reach.

Gideon bowed his head. “Good. Remember to keep your eyes on mine.”

“Yes, Gideon.”

“Ah, Mark.” Gideon slid his sword on the rack and offered him a smile.

“That was amazing.” He frowned. “I didn’t know Derengard was still training.”

Gideon waved a hand. “A true master knows that he is always a student. It is important to keep up your training, even when you think you have learned everything there is to know. Never let complacency be your downfall.”

Derengard nodded. “You will learn more from sparring than any theory.”

“Just as you will learn more from a real fight than sparring,” Gideon said. “But fighting builds on sparring, which builds on the theory.”

“The foundation stuff,” Mark said.

“Indeed.” Gideon drew a wooden sword from the rack and handed it to Derengard. “Today, we’ll be working on the vertical cut.”

Derengard swung the sword straight down.

“Looks easy,” Mark said.

“It is the most basic move,” Gideon said. “But don’t let that fool you. It can still be very powerful.” He signalled for Derengard to repeat the demonstration. “Notice how he starts with the sword raised above his head.”

Mark nodded.

“And then he brings it down in a smooth, controlled motion.”

Derengard repeated the move three times.

“It is a versatile cut that can be used for both striking and defending.” Gideon handed a wooden sword to Mark. “Remember what I’ve already showed you.”

Mark gripped the sword and slowed his breathing, his feet echoing Derengard’s stance.

Derengard repeated the cut and Mark tried to mirror the technique.

Gideon shook his head. “No, no, no.”

Mark frowned. “What was wrong with that?”

“Too jerky. Remember it needs to be smooth.”

“It’s one motion,” Derengard said. “It looks like you’ve broken it up into three different parts.”

Mark looked down at the sword and gave a quick nod.

“Try again,” Gideon said. “Remember, controlled motion.”

Mark took a deep breath and started the technique, repeating it over and over as Gideo and Derengard offered tips and made adjustments to his form.

After a few hours of this, Gideon clapped his hands together and smiled at Mark. “You are making very good progress.”

“Thank you, Gideon.”

Over the next few weeks, Gideon taught Mark the basic cuts and movements, their sessions becoming more like sparring sessions than drills.

Derengard instructed Mark on parries and blocks, teaching him how to bring together the techniques he had learned and respond to different attacks with counters of his own.

But no matter how hard Mark pushed himself, Derengard outshined him in every respect. He was faster, stronger, and more experienced than Mark, and every day he found himself struggling to keep up.

“Come on, Mark, you’re not even trying.” Derengard grinned down at Mark and helped him to his feet.

Mark gritted his teeth and circled Derengard, his gaze fixed on Deregrard’s eyes. He swung his sword, but Derengard hopped aside with ease. 

“Keep your guard up, Mark,” Gideon said. “Don’t let him get inside your defenses.”

Derengard struck from every angle and push Mark to the edge of the training room.

“You’re not good enough,” Derengard said. “Why even bother?”

A surge of anger rose through Mark, and he swung his sword with renewed vigour. He managed to block Derengard’s blow, and he followed up with a quick counterattack.

Derengard stumbled back, and Mark pressed the advantage, driving him back with a flurry of strikes.

Derengard grinned and he launched a fierce series of strikes that caught Mark off guard.

Mark staggered backward, his sword arm wobbling, and Derengard sent swept Mark’s feet, sending him crashing to the ground.

“Good effort, Mark,” Gideon said, helping Mark to his feet.

“Good effort?” Mark glared at Derengard. “He’s too good. I’ve got no chance.”

“You’re improving, but you still have a long way to go.”

Mark nodded. “You think I’m improving?”

“Every day, Mark. You won’t see it now, but every session you improve slightly. You’re getting stronger, faster, and your skills are starting to come together.”

“But it’s so slow.”

“It is.” Gideon placed a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “But when Derengard came, he had no skills either. It has taken a few years of training, but now he is a competent warrior.”

“Competent? He’s more than competent—he’s amazing.”

Gideon chuckled. “No, Mark. He is skilled, but he still has a long way to go. As do I.”

“But you’re better than Derengard.”

“Remember what I said, Mark.” He raised a finger. “Training is never done. A master knows there is always more to learn.”

Mark nodded. “I understand.”