Book I of III: The Swords of the Sultan (15 page)

The drill instructor interrupted, “Stop
thinking about the things you can’t do…and start doing the things
you can. I know that you can do this, but you must have no doubts,
as well. First, close your eyes and keep them closed, and then take
some deep breaths. In through the nose...out the mouth.”

Nearly thirty seconds later, the student
finally answered with confidence, “I feel better, sir. I know that
I can do this now.”

Now with a loud and commanding voice, the
drill instructor ordered, “Good—now open your eyes and scan your
horizons!”

His voice immediately silenced the entire
crowd of onlookers.

After sucking in one last deep breath, Baltor
opened his eyes and scanned the path, from the first obstacle to
the last, as well everything else in between.

Strangely, everything that he had to do
became clear, even though his nerves remained a bit tense.

The student’s gaze finally rested upon his
drill instructor and with a nod he said, “I’m ready, sir.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you when you
return.”

The drill instructor securely blindfolded his
student, walked over to the stadium, and took his seat in the front
row.

It felt to Baltor that an eternity had passed
before the word…

“Go!”

Blindly, he bolted ahead, remembering that
his first obstacle was a huge, circular, bottomless pit with a rope
that he had to swing across to get to the other side.

With a leap, his hands found the rope—he
grabbed it, and the momentum of the rope swung him to the other
side. He let go of the rope, and continued to run at top speed.

His second obstacle course was a
one-hundred-foot high wall that he had to climb; however, just as
he began to near the wall, he detected a whooshing sound.

He first rolled forward, just barely evading
an arrow by mere inches, and then leapt up and forward, as his
memory reminded him to do. Again, his instincts were right on—he
latched onto the wall and quickly scaled his way up.

Once he had reached the top, and without any
more arrows shot at him yet, he remembered that the path veered up
and to the left. He also remembered that up here, it was possible
for the archers to hit him.

As if to confirm, he heard two whooshing
sounds back to back, and so he rolled forward, one right after the
other. And one right after the other, both arrows missed, yet only
by inches!

A few in the crowds had only now begun to
clap and cheer. Paying them no heed, he was back on his feet as he
booked ahead. His memory told him that at the end was a ninety-foot
knotted rope that hung from the ceiling and led to the ground, but
the rope was about twelve feet past the mouth of the tunnel! He
also remembered that he would have to slide down real fast, as the
archers would still be in range.

He leapt, and again his hands found the
ropes: the rope began to swing back and forth from the
momentum.

As he had begun to slide his way down, a good
idea suddenly crossed his mind—he kicked his legs back and forth in
order to keep the rope swinging.

He heard over a dozen whooshing sounds, but
none of the arrows struck by the time he made it to the ground—and
then he bolted forward! About a dozen-or-so more people had joined
in with the applause.

Once Baltor had made it halfway down the
dug-in path to his next obstacle, he recalled that there were
several straw-dummies up ahead, yet fortunately, the archers
couldn’t get him over there.

As if to confirm this just seconds later, he
heard the sound of a rope being cut, and then the sound of a sword
slicing through the air to his left.

Instantaneously he rolled left, grabbed the
sword that had just finished its swing by sound alone, and with an
angular attack downward, he sliced the dummy in half.

He then bolted forward, and took out two more
dummies with his newly acquired weapon. Approximately thirty people
were cheering now.

His memory continued to serve him, for he
recalled that the next obstacle in the course up ahead was a
twenty-foot ladder that led into another tunnel. He also remembered
that once he had begun to climb, he would once again be in range
from the archers.

Despite the dangers, he climbed up the ladder
and heard several whooshing noises. He held the ladder with his
left hand; with his other hand, he swung his sword defensively.
Baltor deflected three of the arrows, but the fourth struck him in
his left forearm—quite a few people in the cheering crowds had
oohed upon seeing that.

With the horrible pain, he barely managed to
hold on to the ladder. Once he had made it to the top and into the
tunnel, he heard several more whooshing sounds.

He rolled three times forward, which caused
the shaft of the arrow to break off in his forearm and send
shooting pains all the way up and down, but thankfully, none of the
other arrows hit!

He dismissed the pain and ran, recalling that
the path of this tunnel wound itself to the right. And that at the
end of the tunnel that spanned for about two hundred feet, the next
obstacle was another rope attached at the ceiling about twenty feet
beyond the mouth of the tunnel, and that the ground was some thirty
feet below.

However, what Baltor could not know was
whether he would be in range of the archers at the tunnel’s mouth
and beyond. Therefore, he ran up to this edge and stopped.

He instantly heard a whooshing sound; his
sword easily deflected the incoming arrow; and now Baltor had his
answer!

He quickly backed up twenty feet while
deflecting still another arrow, and then he bolted forward. He
leapt as hard as he possibly could over the side of the tunnel,
extended his arms out, and then twisted his right wrist so that the
sword was parallel with the ground.

As he rapidly plummeted the thirty feet to
the ground, he only then remembered that there was a dummy waiting
for him.

So the very second his hands contacted the
ground, he rolled his body forward to break up the shock, and then
he swung his sword up and out—this dummy was destroyed before the
instructor had even the chance to cut the taut rope!

Most of the cheering crowd aahed.

While still running, Baltor remembered that
there was only one obstacle left—the dozen spiked bags. As he drew
close to his objective, he next remembered that there was a railing
about fifteen feet or so off the ground that secured all the
bags.

He ran harder and harder while avoiding the
many arrows shot at him. With a leap that literally caused the
crowd to gasp, he grabbed the top of the railing before he actually
managed to roll himself up to the top. He then ran the length of
the railing, dropped to the ground at the far end, and then he
continued running straight ahead.

A voracious amount of cheering was what he
heard a few seconds later; and with an ever-growing smile, he knew
that he had completed the obstacle course … passed the test.

From amongst the cheering, he unexpectedly
heard a rather familiar man’s voice declare, Salmot’s say,
“Wait—wait—wait!”

Once the cheering had stopped, only a second
later, Salmot continued, “He didn’t pass! Make him do it again—he
cheated!”

Humonus challenged, “How you figure?”

Salmot explained, “He didn’t go through the
obstacles like he was supposed to! Baltor was supposed to go
through the spiked bags, not over them! He probably also had his
blindfolds loose so that he could see what lay ahead of him.”

Baltor groaned inwardly.

He heard Humonus reply, “Well then, why don’t
you check the blindfold yourself to ensure that they are
secure?”

After a minute had passed, the student felt
his blindfold checked thoroughly. He then heard Salmot say in front
of him, “Well, though he couldn’t see, he still didn’t go through
the final obstacle course like he was supposed to—I say we put it
to a vote!”

Baltor next heard his drill instructor
dutifully reply, “Yes, Master Salmot, I totally agree! All those in
favor that Baltor cheated and didn’t pass his test, say ‘Nay!’”

Only a few people replied to that.

He next heard his drill instructor
enthusiastically roar, “All those in favor that Baltor has passed,
say ‘Aye!’”

Most of the people exclaimed, “Aye!”

Humonus exclaimed just as loud, “The ayes
have it!”

Baltor immediately heard a thunderous
cheering and applause coming from the crowds—in fact; the volume of
it all nearly deafened him. All the while, he felt someone untying
the blindfold. Once removed, he observed that the crowd was
literally on its feet.

The drill instructor proudly lifted his
student’s sword-bearing right hand, and again he stated as loud as
the crowd, “
The ayes have it!!
”

The crowd, yet again, roared its approval,
punctuating the single greatest moment in Baltor’s life!

Several minutes later, once the last of the
crowd had finished with their congratulatory applause,
approximately half of the spectators began to disperse their
separate ways. As for the greater half of the crowd that chose to
linger around, they began to congregate and chat with each other in
variously numbered groups.

Not surprising to anyone, Salmot was the very
first to leave, without as much as a single clap or a word of
congratulations. Only moments after his departure, half a dozen
waiters rolled in carts containing finger snacks, delicacy desserts
and fruity beverages. Some of those beverages even contained
alcohol.

Meanwhile, a man who was in his early
twenties, clean-shaven and dressed in a professional black jacket
with a white-furled shirt, hurriedly approached Baltor and
Humonus’s location from the stands. Not only was he carrying a very
large red backpack on his back, yet a plush black chair in both
hands.

Once the young man had neared, he immediately
stated with a smile on his face and excitement to his voice,
“Congratulations to you, Baltor!” He promptly set the chair on the
ground before him.

“Thank you, sir,” Baltor said proudly.

After lightly patting his fist into his
chest, the man introduced, “Oh, I’m not a ‘sir’ just yet, thank you
very much—right now I’m a medic, and I am here to tend to the
arrowhead still lodged in your forearm. My name’s Racine, by the
way… but most people call me ‘Doc’.”

Immediately he pointed to the chair, and
added, “So, please take a seat and be patient, while I pull
everything I’ll need out of my medical bag.” He next began the
process of pulling the heavy backpack off his back and setting it
onto the ground.

As soon as the medic had reminded Baltor
about his wound, his forearm had begun to get “really painful,”
coupled with the fact that his “adrenaline juices” were only now
beginning to dissipate—he sat down while saying with a bit of pain
in his voice, “Okay—thanks, Doc.”

Racine opened his backpack, and pulled out a
thin piece of wood that was a foot in both length and width. After
extending the four legs from the bottom of the wood, he set the
table on the ground right next to the chair.

He next pulled two bottles out of the bag,
and set the larger bottle filled with a thin clear fluid onto the
table. Still holding the other bottle filled with a thick black
fluid, Racine extended it toward Baltor, saying with a smile, “Chug
this all down—it tastes awful, but you’ll be feeling awfully good
in a minute.”

After Baltor had taken the extended bottle,
and pulled the cork out with his teeth, he sniffed its very strong
and unpleasing aroma.

“
Ewww
…” he said with a rather
scrunched up face.

Humonus, who had been looking here and there,
had also been listening to their conversation. He promptly looked
back over to his student and laughed out, “Trust him—Doc knows what
he’s talking about!”

Baltor plugged his nose with one hand and
with the other, he tilted the bottle and chugged the nasty fluids
down his throat! Meanwhile, Racine had already pulled out several
more medical tools, supplies and bandages. He began arranging them
all neatly onto the table.

“
Uggghhhh
...” Baltor managed to say
upon completion, despite the horribly tar-like substance that still
clung to his tongue.

Once Racine was done a few moments later, he
said, “When you no longer feel any pain in your arm, let me know so
that I can begin, please.”

Just as Baltor nodded, he began to feel a
pleasant tingling sensation in his mouth, throat, and stomach. Not
even a minute later, not only had his injured arm gotten numb, yet
so had all his other joints, including his head—even though he felt
wonderful, he said to Racine with quite a slur, “Yesss. Go
‘head!”

Racine lightly grabbed the arm, and then
began to pour the clear alcoholic disinfectant from the bottle and
onto the area of the wound. Though a frothy substance appeared
there, Baltor felt no pain or anything else, whatsoever.

Even though he had reached the state of
oblivion, Racine remained quite busy. He first set the bottle back
down onto the table, and picked up a sterile scalpel. He next
carefully probed open the flesh around the arrow, and just as
carefully so as not to damage any muscle tissues, he extracted the
arrow.

Once done with this, he set the tool and the
arrow back onto the table, picked up a primitive sewing needle with
thread, and carefully sewed the wound back shut. Using a sterile
cotton ball, he next applied a thick coat of some type of
dark-green gel.

After dressing it up with a half-inch-thick
sterile bandage, he wrapped a bunch more of the bandaging material
around his entire forearm—the entire process took about fifteen
minutes.

He turned to Humonus, because Baltor was
still in the state of oblivion, before he revealed, “I’ll be by
every day to change his bandages and to remove the stitches in two
weeks, okay?”